Some of you have asked when Unclean was coming out on the Kindle.

Well, it's now out.

Thanks to all of you who have read the book (or are planning to) and have passed on feedback, Tweeted/Facebooked the book, or posted online reviews.

It's always an honor to have people interact with your ideas. And, hopefully, to have those ideas impact the life of the church.

One additional note, in September at ACU's Summit I'll be doing a class on the subject of the book. The class is entitled "Unclean: The Psychology of Missional Failure."

One of the better Improv Everywhere experiments. (H/T Daily Dish)



An old post of mine here on the theology of Improv Everywhere, flash mobs and fun in general

This post is a spin off reflection from my Tales of the Demonic post.

In that post I described how bureaucratic systems tend to dehumanize us. To illustrate this point I used the example of a student on my campus caught up in a inter-office bureaucratic snarl:

I think of that student caught up in the bureaucratic nightmare on my campus. Most of us can identify with her plight, being shuttled from office to office from bureaucrat to bureaucrat with no one being able to help. Each person you face is very nice and would like to help, but policies and procedures have everyone's hands tied. The tragedy of the student is that those policies and procedures come to define the student's relationship with the University. She finds herself up against a "system" that doesn't seem to care. True, the people in the system care. They would love to help. But they don't have the "power" to help. The system has tied their hands.

As I pondered this example some more a very reasonable objection came to mind. It sounded like this:

Okay, fine, bureaucracies are inefficient and people can fall through the cracks of the system. But what is your suggested alternative? To just give the keys away? If policies and procedures didn't exist the school couldn't function. We'd go out of business and have to shut the doors.

That's a very good point. And it's an observation that not only holds for my institution but for just about every other institution that has a policies and procedures manual. There is a close association between those policies and procedures and the survival of the institution.

This link between the policies and procedures manual and the survival of the institution made me recall William Stringfellow's analysis about the relationship between Death and the principalities and powers. According to Stringfellow, Death sits behind all the powers on earth:

…history discloses that the actual meaning of such human idolatry of nations, institutions, or other principalities is death. Death is the only moral significance that a principality proffers human beings. That is to say, whatever intrinsic moral power is embodied in a principality—for a great corporation, profit, for example; or for a nation, hegemony; or for an ideology, conformity—that is sooner or later suspended by the greater moral power of death. Corporations die. Nations die. Ideologies die. Death survives them all. Death is—apart from God—the greatest moral power in this world, outlasting and subduing all other powers no matter how marvelous they may seem for the time being. This means, theologically speaking, that the object of allegiance and servitude, the real idol secreted within all idolatries, the power above all principalities and powers—the idol of all idols—is death.

Now that may seem to be a bit of a stretch, that Death is the power behind, say, America or your church or your place of business. But Stringfellow's analysis seems to be confirmed when we pause to consider the guiding force behind every power: Survival. As Stringfellow notes:

Survival of the institution is the operative ethic of all institutions, in their fallenness.

What this means is that, as a servant of the institution, I should do my part to help the institution compete, survive and thrive. This means that, at the end of the day, my efforts are in the service of Death. Death (or, rather, Death's avoidance) is the motive force behind all institutions. Oh, no one ever really says it that crudely, but every institution has a metric of death that it monitors: head counts, attendance, membership, money, sales, market share, web hits, etc. And when this metric starts to flat-line the institution will go into a "death throe," doing whatever it can to survive. In this instance, the ethic governing the institution is revealed to be Darwinian in nature, survival is the highest good. And if you doubt this you've never been a part of an institution that, struggling to survive, has cut people loose. When it comes down to you or the institution the institution will always choose itself.

And this brings me back to the policies and procedures manual. Yes, it is true that if we don't follow the policy and procedure manual the institution can't function, can't survive. And that's sort of my point. Death is the ethic governing the policy and procedure manual.

I think of it this way: the policy and procedure manual is the immune system of the institution. It is the system that identifies "viruses" that might put its life at risk. And like the immune system, the policy and procedure manual has defenses it deploys to destroy these contagions. Oversight. Accountability. Sanctions. Evaluations. Reprimands. Termination. What's it all for? To help the institution survive.

So what am I saying? That institutions are bad? No. I'm only saying that institutions are powers that require service. More, these institutions provide us with routes to self-esteem and significance. They give us money and hand us labels like "successful." These rewards feel good, making us want to serve all the more.

And that's not necessarily a bad thing. The mission statement of your institution might actually be very inspirational. But we need to be clear: Death is the mission statement behind all mission statements. The real mission of the institution is to survive.

In short, it's not that institutions are bad. It's just that they are idols. They are false gods. They seem to offer us the promise of significance and meaning in life. But behind the shiny surface of corporate headquarters and the inspirational mission statement Christians know what sits behind it all: Death. As Stringfellow notes:

Death, after all, is no abstract idea, nor merely a destination in time, nor just an occasional happening, nor only a reality for human beings, but, both biblically and empirically, death names a moral power claiming sovereignty over all people and all things in history. Apart from God, death is a living power greater--because death survives them all--than any other moral power in this world of whatever sort: human beings, nations, corporations, cultures, wealth, knowledge, fame or memory, language, the arts, race, religion.

Does that mean I'm telling you to quit? To sabotage your workplace? No. I'm talking about idolatry and serving two masters. I'm just saying this: Pay attention to the ethic at work in the world. Pay attention to who you are really serving. Pay attention to where you are getting your self-esteem.

Discern the spirits.

Even the spirit of the policy and procedure manual.

In thinking about my last post, Tales of the Demonic, about how we become violent by playing our roles within the structures of the Principalities and Powers, I was struck today about how well a Bob Dylan song articulates this theology.

I don't have the Dylan cred my friend Mark has, but let me try to give you a bit of background about the Dylan song I was listening to today. The song "Only a Pawn in Their Game" is a song off Dylan's third album, the 1964 The Times They Are a-Changin'. The first song on the second side of the album (or track six on a modern CD) is "Only a Pawn in Their Game."

"Only a Pawn" is song about the assassination of Civil Rights activist Medgar Evers. The song is important theologically because it is a commentary on Evers' assassin, Byron De La Beckwith. In "Only a Pawn" Dylan suggests that De La Beckwith "can't be blamed" for the murder. Why? Dylan goes on to discuss how De La Beckwith, as a "poor white man," is just pawn within a larger socio-politico-economic system that keeps the status quo by having poor whites hate poor blacks. Dylan suggests that De La Beckwith is a captive to these demonic socioeconomic forces. The song is significant in Civil Rights history because it was one of the first songs that tried to identify with and understand the poor whites who gravitated to the Klu Klux Klan and the White Citizen's Councils. The song doesn't exonerate the violence but it does echo Jesus's cry from the cross, "They know not what they do."

Only a Pawn in Their Game - Bob Dylan

A bullet from the back of a bush took Medgar Evers' blood.
A finger fired the trigger to his name.
A handle hid out in the dark
A hand set the spark
Two eyes took the aim
Behind a man's brain
But he can't be blamed
He's only a pawn in their game.

A South politician preaches to the poor white man,
"You got more than the blacks, don't complain.
You're better than them, you been born with white skin," they explain.
And the Negro's name
Is used it is plain
For the politician's gain
As he rises to fame
And the poor white remains
On the caboose of the train
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.

The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid,
And the marshals and cops get the same,
But the poor white man's used in the hands of them all like a tool.
He's taught in his school
From the start by the rule
That the laws are with him
To protect his white skin
To keep up his hate
So he never thinks straight
'Bout the shape that he's in
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.

From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks,
And the hoof beats pound in his brain.
And he's taught how to walk in a pack
Shoot in the back
With his fist in a clinch
To hang and to lynch
To hide 'neath the hood
To kill with no pain
Like a dog on a chain
He ain't got no name
But it ain't him to blame
He's only a pawn in their game.

Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught.
They lowered him down as a king.
But when the shadowy sun set on the one
That fired the gun
He'll see by his grave
On the stone that remains
Carved next to his name
His epitaph plain:
Only a pawn in their game.

Dylan sang the song at the 1963 March on Washington. You can see it here starting at the 3:33 mark:

Last year I was sitting in the backyard typing away on my laptop. It was one of those wonderful mornings where I'm working outside with a cup of coffee and the dog running around.

Suddenly, things got very bad. I was surprised to see a man let himself into my backyard. I was startled but saw he was wearing a hard hat, a tool belt and a florescent vest. He was from the electric company and he was looking for our electric box.

Feeling cheerful I said, "Well hello, checking the meter?"

He responded, "Ummm. No sir. I'm here to shut off the power."

Shocked, I sought clarification, "Turn off the electricity!?"

"Yes sir."

"But why?"

"Lack of payment."

Now I'm really alarmed and confused, "Lack of payment? We're set up on an automatic bank draft. How could there be lack of payment?"

The man looked worried, like I was about to totally go off on him. "Sir, I can't say. All I know is that I'm supposed to shut off the power. I'm just doing my job."

I took a deep breath...

...

Out at the prison where I help with a bible study we get to interact on first name basis with the inmates. But the guards remain strangers. Over time the inmates share stories about guards who are unfair and hostile. My fellow volunteers share stories about guards trying to thwart the bible study, from not turning on the air conditioning for the chapel to claiming they are too understaffed to allow the study to happen.

I come to realize that the guards are ciphers to me. Lacking a personal connection with them, like the one I have with the inmates, I notice how easy feelings can be projected onto them.

Walking to the chapel, Bob, the study leader, makes a comment as we pass scores of guards leaving the prison at the end of their workshift:

"I just feel for these guards," he says, "It's hot, hard work. Plus, most of them have a second job just to make ends meet."

Suddenly, the scales fall from my eyes. I see the guards walking past me in a whole new light. They transform from anonymous and antagonistic agents to very tired mothers and fathers working two jobs to put food on the table.

...

A student comes into my office. She is hot from walking from office to office all over campus. She is caught up in snarl of university bureaucracy that is preventing her from graduating in a few weeks. She's visited office after office. And while people are unfailingly nice (this is a Christian campus after all) no one can help her. They just pass her on with a "Sorry, we can't help you with that. Why don't you try talking to..." Her life has become the Higher Education version of a Kafkaesque nightmare.

Now here she sits in front of me, as one of our majors, wondering if the Department of Psychology can help. I'm tempted to say "I'm sorry I can't help. Have you tried talking to...?" to fulfill my role as a cog in the machine.

...

Tales of the demonic.

I guess that description might seem wildly overblown. But over the last few years, after engaging with the work of people like William Stringfellow, I've been thinking a great deal about how the bureaucratic structures of the world dehumanize us.

Consider the stories above. In each of the cases human beings are not interacting directly. We are, rather, interacting through the power structures of the world. I don't know the name of the man in my backyard about to turn off my electricity. And he doesn't know my name. Our relationship is, rather, defined by our locations in a bureaucratic power structure. He's an agent of the electric company. I'm an address on his work order. That is how our relationship is defined. A relationship stripped of its humanity. And as a consequence I have to work mightily to treat this man with respect. He isn't to blame. But everything about this dehumanized interaction makes me want to yell at him. To direct my anger at him.

As I think about the prison I begin to notice, given my closer association with the inmates, that I need to take care to monitor my feelings toward the guards. Given their anonymity I can let the impressions of the inmates begin to affect my impressions. If I'm not vigilant I slip into the dehumanizing dynamics of prison life, with "guards" on one side and "prisoners" on the other. Again, the relationships become defined by the roles within the power structure.

I think of that student caught up in the bureaucratic nightmare on my campus. Most of us can identify with her plight, being shuttled from office to office from bureaucrat to bureaucrat with no one being able to help. Each person you face is very nice and would like to help, but policies and procedures have everyone's hands tied. The tragedy of the student is that those policies and procedures come to define the student's relationship with the University. She finds herself up against a "system" that doesn't seem to care. True, the people in the system care. They would love to help. But they don't have the "power" to help. The system has tied their hands. Again, the relationships have been dehumanized. The student is interacting with "offices" on campus.

The point of all this is that I'm coming to the conclusion that one of the demonic forces in modern life is how we are increasingly interacting with each other through bureaucratic systems. When I find myself yelling at the person in front of me it is very likely that I'm not really mad at this particular person. Rather, I'm yelling at an agent of the system. An agent who, after work is over, will go home to his or her family for dinner. And maybe he will stop off at a liquor store to get a drink to take the edge off. It was a bad day after all. Particularly that guy who was yelling and rude because his electricity got turned off...

Everyday we are in a battle to hold on to our humanity within a system that is dehumanizing us. Can we crack through the bureaucratic fog to see the flesh and blood people standing in front of us? The waiter. The manager. The return clerk. The bank teller. The secretary. The umpire/referee. The police officer. The bag boy. The financial aid officer. The tax agent. The coach. The school principal. The church staff member. The guy shutting your electricity off...

On and on it goes. If we are not careful, if we are not vigilant, if we are not prayerful modern life will dehumanize us. It is a demonic force that must be resisted. I keep going back to something William Stringfellow said, we must struggle to live humanely in the midst of the Fall.

To live humanely in the midst of the Fall. Because our battle is not against flesh and blood but against the powers in the heavenly realms. Against those forces of dehumanization that run the show but can never be localized in time or space. I can't have a heart to heart with the electric company. I'll only be able to interact with the electric company through its bureaucratic channels and agents. In the meantime, the power behind it all sits unmoved and untouched while I yell at the guy in my backyard.

Last week I ended my part of the prison bible study with these words:

There was this kid who came from a poor family. He had no good options in life so he signed up for the military. After a few years he was deployed to a conflict infested, god-forsaken desert outpost. It was the worst tour of duty he could have been assigned. It was going to be hot and dangerous. Everyday he had to live with a hostile populace who hated his presence and the very sight of his uniform. Plus, the place was swarming with insurgents and terrorists.

Anyhow, one morning the solider goes to work and finds that he's been assigned that day to a detail that is supposed to oversee the execution of three convicted insurgents. The solider shakes his head. He didn't sign up for this. His life just totally sucks. "They don't pay me enough," he thinks, "for the shit I have to do."

He doesn't know he's going to be executing the Son of God that day. He's just going to work, punching the time clock, keeping his head down. He's just trying to stay alive, get through the day, and send some money back home to Rome.

And this is why, I think, Jesus prays, "Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."

Few of us do.

Last night ACU students made history. We officially busted the Anson Light.

One of my most favorite posts is the one where I tell the story of how a group of students and I went out to try to bust the Anson Light.

If you've not read that post, let me catch you up. About 25 miles north of Abilene is the small town of Anson. And one of the things Anson is famous for is the Anson Light.

The Anson Light is a ghost light that has attracted over the decades quite a bit of media and paranormal investigative attention. But mainly it attracts high school and college students who have got nothing to do on slow Saturday nights.

To find the light you head north out of Abilene on US-83. When you get to US-180 in Anson (the first traffic light you reach) you take a right. You go about a mile or so down the road until you reach a cemetery. You take a right on the dirt road next to the cemetery. You go about a mile down the dirt road until you reach a crossroads. At the crossroads you turn around to face back down the road toward the cemetery. Here's a map if you ever want to plan a family vacation to Anson:
After you turn back around you're supposed to flash your car lights. After some moments the ghost light will appear down the road.

The legend behind the light is this:

There was a young boy who got lost in a snowstorm. His mother, in her grief, went out searching the night for him with a lantern. They both never return. The Anson light is the illumination from the mother's lamp still searching the night for her lost son.

Visiting the Anson Light at least once is kind of a rite of passage for ACU students. When I last visited with my students a few years ago we indeed saw the light and spent a couple of hours trying to figure it out. I was pretty convinced the light was coming from car headlights but I wasn't 100% confident. So we left with a mystery. But I was determined to return in the future to get to the bottom of the matter. And last night we did.

Around 9:30 Caroline, Kurt, Zach, Anne, Casey, Tyler #1, and Tyler #2 gathered in the Chambers parking lot at ACU, piled into my car and Kurt's truck and headed north to Anson.

We got out to the crossroads and, sure enough, there was the Anson Light. We watched it for awhile, looking at it through binoculars. Some of the group got spooked because it is very dark out there. And then the coyotes started howling and screaming...

I ignored the coyotes because we had a hypothesis to test. After my last failed attempt at ghost busting I went home to research what the various paranormal investigation groups had determined about the light. The best analysis I found was a 2001 report by the Southwestern Ghost Hunters Association. According to their report, the SGHA thought that the Anson Light is caused by the oncoming headlights from US-277 which is perfectly aligned with the dirt road where the Anson Light is observed. You can see this alignment here:
As best I could tell from their online report, the SGHA didn't actually trace the light to its source. They mainly drew their conclusion by zooming in on the light with their video camera where they said they could make out the car lights on US-277. However, I've looked at the light through binoculars with students and while some of them see car lights others disagree. So if we really wanted to settle the question we'd need to do something the SGHA didn't do: Trace the lights to their origin. Only then would we have the definitive "proof" that the Anson Light isn't a ghost light.

And that's what we set out to do.

Looking at Google Maps it appeared that we could follow some dirt roads from the crossroads to the source of the light (what we believed to be car lights from US-277). The key was to get ourselves exactly on the line between the ghost light and the crossroads. The route for the first part of our journey looked like this:
From this location we'd be "in between" the ghost light and the crossroads, theoretically speaking. It was possible that once we arrived to this spot the light could have been to our south rather than to our north. That is, we could have "passed" the ghost on the way to this spot.

However, when we got to this location we looked north and were able to see the ghost light. Only this time we were much closer to the source and, thus, were better able to see that these were car lights. However, some of the students still doubted. We needed to get closer.

So we set out on the second part of the journey, driving on the dirt roads to get all the way to the light. Fortunately, as you can see from the map below, the last little bit of this drive would be exactly on line with the ghost light. We'd be driving right into it:
So we set out. Then took a right heading north. The light came back into view, off to our right. We then took another right and lost the light. But taking a final left turn we got back on the sight line. The light came back into view and we drove toward it.

And as we closed in on the light, approaching the intersection with US-277, it all became clear: The Anson Light is the approaching car lights from southbound traffic on US-277. The Southwestern Ghost Hunters Association was right. But we had tracked the light all the way to its source. If there was any doubt back on the crossroads looking through binoculars those were effectively dispelled.

Conclusion: The Anson Light is not a ghost light. Anyone interested can repeat the steps we took to verify for themselves that the source of the Anson Light is the southbound traffic on US-277.

And as best I can tell, this is the first investigation of its kind posted on the Internet. We are the first group I know of to post a public record of tracking the Anson Light from the crossroads to its origin. Where scores of media and paranormal investigators have failed our ACU students have succeeded. Caroline, Kurt, Zach, Anne, Casey, Tyler #1, and Tyler #2 enter the history books of the world as the people who officially busted the Anson Light.

The legend of the Anson Light died on June 23, 2011 at 11:37 pm.


Epilogue:
What made our success possible? Why were we successful last night when my other students couldn't bust the light those many years ago?

Answer: the iPhone.

As many of you know, as a part of our Connected initiative all ACU students are given iPhones. And those iPhones were the difference-makers in our paranormal investigation.

The key to our success as described above was getting ourselves exactly on the sight line of the Anson Light. Using the Google Maps and GPS system on our iPhones we were able to execute the plan described above (we also used our iPhone compasses, picture, and video applications along with using the phones to communicate between cars and those walking the road). The last time I was out in Anson with students we couldn't have pulled this off. It is very difficult to navigate those dirt roads and it's very dark. Plus, the terrain obscures your sight. It was only with the Google Maps and iPhone GPS that we could get to the exact locations we needed to test hypotheses and track the light.

So hooray for ACU's Connected initiative! In my opinion, this is its greatest and most stunning success. There's a lot of talk on our campus about how the iPhone would allow ACU students to do field research. But I bet the Connected folks could never have envisioned the role of the iPhone as vital part of paranormal investigative field research.

My post yesterday on the speed of love and interruptibility made me think again of the famous Good Samaritan study. I lecture over this research every semester as I feel its message, while depressing, is important for ACU students to internalize.

In 1973, John Darley and Daniel Batson published one of the most famous papers looking into helping behavior. The study was entitled From Jerusalem to Jericho: A study of situational and dispositional variables in helping behavior.

The Jerusalem to Jericho study was effectively a modern-day reenactment of the Parable of the Good Samaritan.

The study involved seminarians preparing for the ministry. The seminarians were randomly assigned to one of two groups. The first group was asked to prepare a sermon on the Parable of the Good Samaritan. The second group prepared a sermon on a non-helping subject. The seminarians were then scheduled to deliver this sermon at an appointed time and place.

Upon arriving at the designated place the seminarians were told that the location of the sermon had been changed at the last minute and that they were to go to a new location. At this point the seminarians were randomly assigned again, this time into three groups. A third of the seminarians were put under strong time pressure, told that they needed to get to the new venue in a hurry (the high hurry condition). The second third was put under moderate time pressure (the intermediate hurry condition). And finally, the final third was told that they could take their time getting to the new venue (the low hurry condition). After this hurry manipulation the seminarians were pointed to the exit and directed to proceed to the next venue.

Along the route (an alleyway) to the next venue Darley and Batson had placed a person who showed signs of distress. Specifically, they were sitting slumped against the wall, head down and eyes closed. As the subject passed, the confederate would cough twice and groan. Basically, they showed signs of abdominal pain. As the seminarians passed the key variable was recorded: Would they stop to check on the groaning person?

In short, what we have is a controlled simulation of Jesus's parable. We even have seminarians standing in for the priest and Levite.

So who stopped to help? There were three main predictions that were being tested:

#1: Given that these were individuals bound for Christian ministry most everyone would stop.

#2: Those who were thinking about the Parable of the Good Samaritan would stop. Again, as they were walking to the new venue 50% of the seminarians had a sermon about the Good Samaritan in their heads. Thus, conceivably, those thinking about Jesus's parable would be more likely to recognize the situation: "Hmmm. This situation looks strangely familiar...."

#3: Those who were less hurried would stop. That is, the biggest predictor of helping would be the hurry-manipulation. Those who have the time will help. Those who don't have the time won't.

Overall, the results revealed that the single biggest factor in helping was the hurry manipulation. The relevant statistic from the study was (% who stopped):

The Low Hurry Condition: 63% offered aid

The High Hurry Condition: 10% offered aid

And, incidentally, some seminarians in the high hurry condition literally stepped over the groaning person on the way to deliver their sermon on the Good Samaritan.

Writing about this study a few years ago I made the following observation:

Jerusalem to Jericho makes this acute observation: Most of us pursue spirituality as a hobby. That is, Life with God is pursued as a leisure activity. Why do I say this? Well, hobbies and leisure activities are what we pursue when we have free, expendable time our our hands. But when we have "stuff to do," we tend to place our hobbies to the side. They are not allowed to interfere with our urgent agenda. If so, then the Jerusalem to Jericho study suggests that helping others, for many, is a hobby. It's something to do on weekends, when you have some spare time. This is a penetrating diagnosis. Too many Christians treat altruism as a hobby rather than as a central and urgent feature of their life.

Yesterday I was having a conversation with some of my summer session students about the role of interruptibility in the Kingdom. My fascination with interruptibility began with a conversation with my good friend Mark and I continue to think about it a great deal was well as try to live it out in my own life.

Basically, interruptibility is a form of welcome and hospitality. It is a way of making room for others. This space we create is less a physical space than a temporal space, making room in your To Do list, making space so we can slow down and pay attention to others. In this, interruptibility is a form of slowing down. I'm reminded of a favorite quote from Philip Kenneson who quotes Kosuke Koyama in his book Life on the Vine:

God walks 'slowly' because he is love...Love has its speed. It is an inner speed. It is a spiritual speed. It is a different kind of speed from the technological speed to which we are accustomed. It is 'slow' yet it is lord over all other speeds since it is the speed of love.

Interruptibility is a sign that we are moving at the speed of love.

You see this a lot in Jesus' life and ministry. People frequently call from the margins and Jesus allows himself to be interrupted, to allow the "least of these" to interrupt what he is doing. And by doing so Jesus makes room for others.

But interruptibility is not just a form of hospitality, it is also a form of humility. We tend to become uninterruptible when we think our agenda is the most important. Thus, when you allow someone to interrupt you you are implicitly setting their agenda ahead of your own. You are practicing what Paul taught: "In humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others." Paul isn't talking about self-esteem here. He's talking about priorities. Put other people's interests on your To Do list. Be interruptible.

Because interruptibility is a form of humility it can function as a form of subversion in hierarchies, particularly in workplace interactions. Most workplaces are hierarchical, with superiors on top and subordinates down below. Agendas grow more important as you move upward. Thus, interruptibility flows downward. A superior can interrupt a subordinate but a subordinate shouldn't interrupt a superior. And when a superior interrupts a subordinate the assumption is that the agenda they are about to interrupt with is "more important" than what the subordinate is currently working on.

I'm not saying that superior-to-subordinate interruption is sinful. It's necessary to get the job done. My main concern has to do with how life in hierarchies can form bad habits and can be dehumanizing. Patterns of interruptibility in hierarchies need to be monitored if we'd like to be people of grace and welcome, inside and outside the office. Too often, the patterns of interruptibility created by workplace hierarchies create habits and self-concepts that get imported into other settings, the church in particular. I'm put in mind of the recent incident where a 12 year old boy with Cerebral Palsy was asked to leave church during Easter services (H/T Rachel Held Evans).

The best book I know of about fighting against the poison of hierarchies in workplace settings is Bob Sutton's best-selling management book The No Asshole Rule, which really should be required reading in all churches, let alone workplaces. According to Sutton, the NAR basically boils down to how people behave in hierarchical interactions. Thriving, happy and productive workplaces are places where hierarchies have been "flattened," where superiors work to interact with subordinates in an egalitarian manner. True, most large businesses can't function as a democracy, but what Sutton is after has more to do with the humanity of the workplace, the respect we give to each other. This is why you see places like Starbucks train their managers to give commands to subordinates by making requests. "Mop the floor," becomes "Hey Joe, would you mind mopping the floor?" The superior is interrupting Joe, as well he should, but he's doing so in a way that takes the edge off the hierarchy.

As Sutton summarizes in his book:

The difference between how a person treats the powerless versus the powerful is as good a measure of human character as I know.

And one way we can treat those less powerful than ourselves is to open up space for them in our lives. To become interruptible.

Two stories from Mark 10:

People were bringing little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.

...

Then they came to Jericho. As Jesus and his disciples, together with a large crowd, were leaving the city, a blind man, Bartimaeus (which means “son of Timaeus”), was sitting by the roadside begging. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Many rebuked him and told him to be quiet, but he shouted all the more, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

Jesus stopped and said, “Call him.”

Last week I wrote a post about Scooby-Doo and the demonic. Yeah, that's the kind of stuff I write about.

Anyway, in that post I noted the biblical connection between the demonic and the economic. Thinking about that association, is there any more poetic text on this subject than Revelation 18? It's just a masterpiece. And a cautionary tale.

Revelation 18.1-3, 11-17a, 20

After all this I saw another angel come down from heaven with great authority, and the earth grew bright with his splendor. He gave a mighty shout:

“Babylon is fallen—that great city is fallen!
She has become a home for demons.
She is a hideout for every foul spirit,
a hideout for every foul vulture
and every foul and dreadful animal.
For all the nations have fallen
because of the wine of her passionate immorality.
The kings of the world
have committed adultery with her.
Because of her desires for extravagant luxury,
the merchants of the world have grown rich.”

The merchants of the world will weep and mourn for her, for there is no one left to buy their goods. She bought great quantities of gold, silver, jewels, and pearls; fine linen, purple, silk, and scarlet cloth; things made of fragrant thyine wood, ivory goods, and objects made of expensive wood; and bronze, iron, and marble. She also bought cinnamon, spice, incense, myrrh, frankincense, wine, olive oil, fine flour, wheat, cattle, sheep, iPhones, horses, chariots, and bodies—that is, human slaves.

“The fancy things you loved so much
are gone,” they cry.
“All your luxuries and splendor
are gone forever,
never to be yours again.”

The merchants who became wealthy by selling her these things will stand at a distance, terrified by her great torment. They will weep and cry out,

“How terrible, how terrible for that great city!
She was clothed in finest purple and scarlet linens,
decked out with gold and precious stones and pearls!
In a single moment
all the wealth of the city is gone!”

Rejoice over her fate, O heaven
and people of God and apostles and prophets!
For at last God has judged her
for your sakes.

As many of you know, each week I help lead a bible study at a local prison. And each week I keep learning a lot about reading the bible "from the margins" of society.

As I noted in a prior post, I'm continually struck by how the bible sounds on the inside of the prison. And perhaps there is no better example of this than the Beatitudes.

For my part of the study I'm working through the gospels and this week we started on the Sermon on the Mount.

I knew I'd be facing a challenge with the Beatitudes. My fear was that our discussion of the Beatitudes would reduce to platitudes and sentimentality. But I knew, if we really confronted the Beatitudes, we'd be talking about something closer to life and death. For the Beatitudes are some of the hardest and craziest words Jesus ever uttered.

But how to get that across?

I started by asking a question. Before we read the Beatitudes, I said, I want you to think of the "Beatitudes" the govern the world in which you live, the life behind these concrete walls and barbed wire. Who is blessed in here? Who gets ahead? Who comes out as #1? So fill in the sentence, "Blessed are the..."

The was a pause and some silence. Generally speaking, prisoners live two lives. One life is the face they present to the guards and other prison officials. This is a nice compliant face. And for the most part this is the face the prisoners show the volunteers. The other face is the face they show among the other prisoners. The face they show to survive day to day. And as you might expect, the two often don't go together very well. But it's really just the extreme version of what we see everyday in our own lives. I have my church, work, and public face. My nice, devout, and together face. And then there is the real me sitting behind that facade.

Week to week, as you lead a bible study with prisoners, you can come to believe that this is the most holy, devout, and saintly bunch of Christians you've ever seen. This is, incidentally, one of the joys of prison ministry, how nice, grateful and cooperative the men are. You'll never have a better audience.

But I know that this is a bit of an illusion. To be sure, the men are grateful. The time they have with us is, perhaps, the only non-coercive, relaxed and egalitarian interaction they have during the week. So they are truly grateful and happy to be a part of the bible study. And many have become committed followers of Jesus.

Still, for the most part I know that the devoutness on display during the bible study is hiding a great deal of darkness. And we don't talk much about that darkness. At least not in our bible study. But I knew it was there and I wanted to try to talk about it a bit before reading the Beatitudes.

So I waited. And asked again, "Inside the prison, who is blessed?"

Finally, a man answered:

"The violent."

I nodded. "So that is Beatitude #1. 'Blessed are the violent.' What else?" The floodgates opened.

The thieves.
The liars.
The manipulators.
The hypocrites.
The wealthy. (There is an underground black market economy.)
The strong.

On and on it went. These were the "virtues" that got "blessed" and rewarded inside the prison. These were the "virtues" that helped you get ahead, survive, and thrive. And I wondered, is it any different on the outside where I live?

Not much.

After creating this list we then turned to Matthew 5 and we read aloud:

Blessed are the poor in spirit...

Blessed are those who mourn...

Blessed are the meek...

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness...

Blessed are the merciful...

Blessed are the pure in heart...

Blessed are the peacemakers...

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness...

As we read these words the room became very somber. In light of what we'd just been talking about the radical call of Jesus shone like a white hot light. It burned. When you read the Beatitudes on the outside it all sounds so nice and happy. But read inside a prison you suddenly see just how crazy you have to be to be a follower of Jesus. How the Beatitudes really are a matter of life and death.

I asked the prisoners, can you be meek, poor in spirit, or merciful in prison? Finally opening up, they said no, you can't. You'd get hurt, taken advantage of, raped, killed. Your days would be numbered if you tried to live out the Beatitudes.

And suddenly, I didn't know what to say. For it became very clear to me what it would mean for me to preach the Beatitudes to these men. I'd be asking them to give their lives to Jesus. I'd be asking them to die.

So I hesitated. For one simple reason. I didn't know if I was ready to make that commitment. And sensing hesitancy in my own heart, my own fear of Jesus, I couldn't ask these men to do something that I myself lacked the courage to do.

None of this was verbalized. After the men described how it would be suicidal to live out the Beatitudes inside the prison we started to talk about how, in small moments here and there, they could let their defenses down to show a little meekness, to show a little mercy. We started to figure out ways they could fit Jesus into the gaps and margins of prison life. Where their shell of violence and toughness could be dropped for a moment.

Basically, we talked about compromise. How to accommodate Jesus to the ruling ethic of prison life. And like I said, I couldn't ask for anything more. Who was I to push them for more mercy and meekness when I'd be walking out of the prison gates in less than an hour? I didn't know what I was asking them to do. Nor was I confident about what I would do if I was in their shoes. So we talked of compromise.

The sun was setting as I walked through the prison gates toward my car. I stood for a moment looking at that gorgeous West Texas sky. Inside I was troubled.

I knew, deep down, that the problem the prisoners faced wasn't so dissimilar from my own. True, the metal meets the bone in prison in ways I don't experience on a day to day basis. But is a life lived on the outside according to the Beatitudes any less radical, crazy and suicidal? And in the face of that call have I not balked and backed down? Have I not been living my life the same way I encouraged the prisoners to live theirs, trying to make a compromise between Jesus and the patterns of this world? Am I not trying to fit Jesus into my life when it's convenient, when it costs me nothing?

This is what happens to you when you read the bible inside a prison.

For the first time in my life I'd read the Beatitudes...

and was afraid.

Every semester I teach a statistics class at ACU. That's one of the classes you get to teach when you are the experimental psychologist in the Psychology Department. I'm the stats geek.

Just about every statistics class opens up with a lecture about data types. It's a fundamental issue because the data you have determines the statistics you should use. So when people call me on campus to ask "What statistic should I use?" I start by asking them about what kind of data they have.

One way to describe data types is the contrast between nominal versus numerical data, categorical versus continuous data, discrete versus dimensional data, or qualitative versus quantitative data. People use different words for this distinction. But the general idea is that nominal, categorical, discrete, or qualitative data represents a difference of kind and is often a grouping variable. By contrast, numerical, continuous, dimensional, or quantitative data represents a difference of degree and is often a measured variable where people can score high or low on some dimension. In my classes I tend to use the labels nominal versus numerical to get at this distinction. So in my classes the question gets asked a lot, "Now, is this variable nominal or numerical?" I like to talk about lily pads (discrete groups) and rivers (continuous flow).

Examples of nominal variables are gender and political affiliation. These are differences of "kind" rather than degree. Men aren't more or less than women. They are just different groupings. Republicans aren't more or less than Democrats. They are just different groupings.

By contrast, your age, weight or IQ are numerical variables where a number--your age, weight or IQ--represents where you fall on some continuum. Thus, we can say you are older or younger, overweight or underweight, or possessing a high IQ.

All this seems clear until you run into situations where there is a bit of overlap. For example, think of Olympic medalists--the gold, silver or bronze. These are groupings. And yet, the groupings were based upon an underlying numerical assessment, for example your elapsed time in crossing the finish line. Thus, we have groupings that are trying to communicate differences of degree. The gold medalist was faster than the silver medalist. But a medal isn't a score. You often run into situations like this where an underling dimension is "cut up" to make groupings, like when a teacher cuts up 0% to 100% test scores into the letter grade groupings A, B, C, D and F.

Okay, if you are normal person I've just bored the hell out of you. If so, you are just like my students. After 30 minutes of explaining all this to my students most, by the looks on their faces, seem about ready to fall asleep.

So, it's at this point in the lecture where I stop and say the following, "I know all this seems boring and irrelevant, but I've actually just handed you an analytical tool that can help you sort out some of the most controversial debates in the world today. In many, many disagreements what you'll find is that people are disagreeing about the 'data type' that best fits the situation they are discussing."

Let me explain this. When we wander out into the world and pick out a bit of it to talk about we often have to decide how we are going to model that bit of the world in our minds. And one of the choices we can make is to see the situation as a difference in kind, category, or quality or as a difference in degree or quantity. Is the data nominal or numerical? A lumpy discrete grouping or a smooth underlying continuum? Is it a lilly pad or a river?

It often can go either way. Consider extroversion and introversion. When Carl Jung first coined these terms he thought of introverts and extroverts as types. There were Introverts over here and Extroverts over there, two groups, two kinds of people. That's how Jung decided to model this bit of human psychology, as a nominal variable. And assessment instruments like the Myers-Briggs, which was inspired by Jung, continue to use the typology approach where you get a letter designation--an I or an E--to show which group you are in.

However, most psychologists no longer think of introversion and extroversion in this way. Rather, we've replaced Jung's difference of kind with a difference of degree. While we still speak of "introverts" and "extroverts" we are really talking about an underling continuum where people could be in the "middle." An "extrovert" is someone who is just high on the extroversion side of the continuum. And you can be more or less extroverted or introverted. It's more a matter of degree than a difference of kind.

You see this issue all through the field of psychology. Is parent/child attachment best understood as a type--Secure vs. Anxious vs. Avoidant--or as a matter of degree? Is ADHD best understood as a mental illness--a diagnosis is a grouping variable--or simply as the extreme point on an underlying continuum (e.g., There are very tall people in the world and they don't get diagnosed. So why diagnose kids on the extreme end of human attentional abilities? Isn't this just natural human variation?).

Okay, that's psychology. How does any of this relate to theology?

Well, if you stop to think about it, a lot of the debates you find in theology and ethics often boil down to how people are modeling the data under discussion. One group is modeling the data as a difference of kind. The other group is seeing it as a matter of degree. It's a black/white frame against a shades of gray frame.

Consider the following debates:

1. Abortion
2. Sexual Orientation
3. Salvation
4. Evolution
5. Orthodoxy

In each of these situations there is some debate (although the parties often don't recognize this) about the proper way to model the data/phenomenon under consideration:

Does life begin at conception or is life a continuous biological process?

Is sexual orientation a gay versus straight distinction or is human sexual orientation best understood to be a continuum between these two poles?

Justification seems to be an either/or (Saved versus Lost) while sanctification seems to be a continuous process. Which is the better way to understand the Christian life? And how do the two views fit together?

Evolution is a continuous process. Creation is not. How do we make the two fit together to explain humanity's unique spiritual status among the animals?

Is orthodoxy best understood as either/or with the Orthodox on the one side and the Heretics on the other? Or should we see orthodoxy as a "degree of similarity " with people varying in greater or lesser ways across a host of theological issues?

Hopefully you can see the point I'm trying to make. Many of these disagreements (and many others) are due (at least partly) to disagreements about a fundamental theoretical assumption: What data type is this? On any given issue conservatives are framing the data as a difference of kind while progressives are framing it as a difference of degree. Or vice versa. In fact, did you just see what I did? I framed theological viewpoints as a nominal variable: Conservative vs. progressive. That is fine to do, but we all know that these "types" are not pure and that the labels obscure the underling continuum and diversity. So we have to be careful to not take those labels too seriously. They are theoretical abstractions I'm imposing on the world.

And that's the point. In these very hot debates we are often unaware that we are deploying theoretical models that might be questioned. Paying attention to these assumptions--like the data type you are using--might help us create more light than heat when we discuss these contentious issues.

Which makes me wonder: Perhaps even theology classes should begin with a lecture on data types.

In my recent post about Adam, Eve and evolution I noted that I tend to assume evolutionary science in everything I think about. But some of you asked for more specifics. I was thinking about doing that until today when I watched this public forum by Joshua Moritz over at Arni Zachariassen's blog (which is really a must read if you're not following it, if only to purchase the "Going to Hell with Rob Bell" t-shirt).

Moritz's address is about 50 minutes long (with a Q&A following), but well worth watching if you get the time and have an interest in how human evolution fits with the bible. I point you to Moritz's talk as it basically articulates how I understand human evolution to relate to Genesis 1-2, with a particular focus on how humans can be the Imago Dei (the Image of God) in light of evolutionary history.

I've been reading this week Brenda Wineapple's book White Heat: The Friendship of Emily Dickinson and Thomas Wentworth Higginson. I'm a huge fan of Dickinson's poetry.

Reading the book I've come across three quotes from the Belle of Amherst that I'd like to share with you:

"'We thank thee Oh Father,' for these strange Minds, that enamor us against thee."

"On subjects of which we know nothing, we both believe and disbelieve a hundred times an Hour, which keeps Believing nimble."

"When Jesus tells us about his Father, we distrust him. When he shows us his House, we turn away, but when he confides to us that he is 'acquainted with Grief,' we listen, for that also is an Acquaintance of our own."

The other day Aidan was watching Scooby-Doo on Cartoon Network.

And watching it with him I got nostalgic and then slipped into a theological reverie.

When it comes to Scooby-Doo I'm kind of a 1969-1971 purist. Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! premiered on CBS on September 13, 1969 with the episode "What a Night for a Knight."

Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! was eventually picked up for a second--1970-1971--season. And added to the opening credits was Austin Roberts' now iconic theme song:



My all-time favorite Scooby-Doo episodes are the seven second season episodes that featured a song by Roberts during the case scenes. Most episodes of Scooby-Doo feature a scene with the monster chasing Scooby, Shaggy and the gang. And during these seven second season episodes one of Austin Roberts' pop songs created the score for the chase.

In 1972, after 25 episodes, Scooby-Doo, Where Are You! was reworked to become The New Scooby-Doo Movies which expanded the episodes from 30 to 60 minutes and featured Scooby-Doo and the gang solving cases with famous guest hosts like the Harlem Globetrotters, Batman and Robin and the Three Stooges. It's at this point where the franchise jumped the shark. In my opinion, the Golden Years of Scooby-Doo were the first two seasons--the Scooby Doo, Where Are You! episodes.

If you've never watched Scooby-Doo, particularly the early episodes, the plot follows a standard pattern. From the Wikipedia entry:

Each episode featured Scooby and the four teenaged members of the Mystery, Inc. gang: Fred, Shaggy, Daphne, and Velma, arriving to a location in the "Mystery Machine" and encountering a ghost, monster, or other supernatural creature, whom they learned was terrorizing the local populace. After looking for clues and suspects and being chased by the monster, the kids come to realize the ghost is anything but, and - often with the help of a Rube Goldberg-like trap designed by Fred - they capture the villain and unmask him. Revealed as a flesh and blood crook trying to cover up crimes by using the ghost story and costume, the criminal is arrested and taken to jail, often saying something to the effect of "...and I would have gotten away with it, too, if it hadn't been for you meddling kids!"

As I sat watching Scooby-Doo with Aidan the other day it struck me how Scooby-Doo is a perfect parable of disenchantment. In his book A Secular Age, Charles Taylor talks about how, over the last 500 years, the world moved from enchantment to disenchantment. Five hundred years ago the world was full of supernatural forces, witchcraft, and ghosts. A world full of thin places, where the border between this world and the Other world was porous and leaky. Five hundred years ago people could be demon possessed or afflicted by witches. The night was full of occult menace and magic. Black cats were bad luck.

Things are much different today. We live in the aftermath of the Enlightenment and the Age of Reason. We are moderns, where science, technology, and skepticism now rule. With electric lighting the dark forces of the night have been banished. There's no room for monsters. Medicine and psychiatry have pushed witchcraft and demon possession offstage. Worrying about black cats is just superstitious and irrational. And ghost stories are just that--fictional tales to scare the kids around the campfire.

Watching Scooby-Doo I realized how closely the show traces, in a single episode, this movement from enchantment to disenchantment. The episodes begin with enchantment, with a supernatural monster, specter, ghoul or ghost. But as the kids investigate they get suspicious, reason asserts itself and the monster--the agent of the occult--is eventually revealed to be Mr. Jenkins the greedy banker. The story ends with disenchantment. The supernatural was simply a "cover" for workaday greed, theft and corruption.

But then I starting thinking about how money and gain are repeatedly revealed to be the true motives behind the villains in Scooby-Doo. Money is the Power behind the occult force.

And this made me wonder if Scooby-Doo is as disenchanted as I took it to be. Given the close association between the demonic and the economic in the bible it struck me that there really was a spiritual Power at work in Scooby-Doo, perhaps the most demonic power of all. The final temptation of Jesus:

The devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”

Soon after, Jesus preaches in the Sermon the Mount:

“No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money."

As Paul wrote to Timothy, "the love of money is the root of all evil."

So as I sat there watching Scooby-Doo I began to wonder. Perhaps this isn't a tale of disenchantment after all. Perhaps Scooby-Doo really is a story about the occult and the demonic. We've just lost the ability to see it.

We moderns think the world has been rid of the dark forces--the ghouls, ghosts, demons and monsters. But these occult forces of evil haven't been expelled, expunged or exorcised. They still haunt and torment.

As we see in Scooby-Doo, the demons still possess us.

A Pentecost repost from last year:

The other day I was sitting in a meeting where we were talking about how the hot new word in academic circles is "Othering." First, we had other. Then we had Other, capital O. Now we have Othering.

I expressed my dislike of the term. Mainly on aesthetic grounds. I don't like the sound of it. However, I do get what the term is doing and find value in its attempt to name, succinctly, a sinful dynamic: The process of turning a fellow human being into something foreign, alien, strange, and "not one of us." In a single word, Othering names what I consider to be the root cause of sin.

It's Othering that makes it so hard to be a part of a group. Any group. Even if the group is completely arbitrary. Consider the psychological research where participants come into the laboratory and are assigned to one of two groups by the flip of a coin. Later in the experiment the participants are asked to allocate rewards and punishments in a game/task to their fellow participants. Time after time, participants show favoritism toward their own group. This knowing full well that their group was formed by the flip of a coin! Think on that. Othering needs nothing more than a flip of a coin to begin doing its work. Now imagine how Othering scales up if we start thinking about skin color, language differences, and the love of God and Country.

Today is Pentecost, the celebration of the events in Acts 2, when God poured out his Spirit upon humanity as a sign of the inbreaking of the Kingdom. But what does this mean? What is the sign of signs that marks this "Kingdom of God"?

I'd suggest this: The Kingdom is marked by its assault on Othering. Where Othering has vanished the Kingdom has come.

Consider how Pentecost echos back to the primordial story of the Tower of Babel, where human hubris (in a tale similar to many Greek myths of humans-seeking-to-be-gods) is thwarted by God in the creation of the language barriers between the nations:

Genesis 11.1-8
Now the whole world had one language and a common speech. As men moved eastward, they found a plain in Shinar and settled there.

They said to each other, "Come, let's make bricks and bake them thoroughly." They used brick instead of stone, and tar for mortar. Then they said, "Come, let us build ourselves a city, with a tower that reaches to the heavens, so that we may make a name for ourselves and not be scattered over the face of the whole earth."

But the LORD came down to see the city and the tower that the men were building. The LORD said, "If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them. Come, let us go down and confuse their language so they will not understand each other."

So the LORD scattered them from there over all the earth, and they stopped building the city. That is why it was called Babel—because there the LORD confused the language of the whole world. From there the LORD scattered them over the face of the whole earth.

But God doesn't leave humanity in this condition where Othering flourishes. God's plan is to pull humans back into solidarity but, this time, in a redeemed state, under the Lordship of the Lamb. Thus, in Pentecost, as you all well know, the confusion and curse of Babel--and the sins of Othering--are reversed in the Kingdom:

Acts 2.1-24, 36
When the day of Pentecost came, they were all together in one place. Suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house where they were sitting. They saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.

Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard them speaking in his own language. Utterly amazed, they asked: "Are not all these men who are speaking Galileans? Then how is it that each of us hears them in his own native language? Parthians, Medes and Elamites; residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya near Cyrene; visitors from Rome (both Jews and converts to Judaism); Cretans and Arabs-we hear them declaring the wonders of God in our own tongues!" Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, "What does this mean?"

Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd: "Fellow Jews and all of you who live in Jerusalem, let me explain this to you; listen carefully to what I say. These men are not drunk, as you suppose. It's only nine in the morning! No, this is what was spoken by the prophet Joel:

'In the last days, God says,
I will pour out my Spirit on all people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy,
your young men will see visions,
your old men will dream dreams.
Even on my servants, both men and women,
I will pour out my Spirit in those days,
and they will prophesy.
I will show wonders in the heaven above
and signs on the earth below,
blood and fire and billows of smoke.
The sun will be turned to darkness
and the moon to blood
before the coming of the great and glorious day of the Lord.
And everyone who calls
on the name of the Lord will be saved.'

"Men of Israel, listen to this: Jesus of Nazareth was a man accredited by God to you by miracles, wonders and signs, which God did among you through him, as you yourselves know. This man was handed over to you by God's set purpose and foreknowledge; and you, with the help of wicked men, put him to death by nailing him to the cross. But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him.

"Therefore let all Israel be assured of this: God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Christ."

And the event of Pentecost--reexperienced every day as the Spirit continues to prompt Christian communities to overcome Othering in their midst: personally, locally, nationally, and internationally--is a foretaste of a greater eschatological culmination:

Revelation 7.9-12
After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice:

"Salvation belongs to our God,
who sits on the throne,
and to the Lamb."

All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces before the throne and worshiped God, saying:

"Amen!
Praise and glory
and wisdom and thanks and honor
and power and strength
be to our God for ever and ever.
Amen!"

Have a blessed Pentecost.

In a few weeks I'll be sending a draft of a second book to the publisher. It will come out with ACU Press, I'm guessing this winter or spring. The book works through in a fuller, more careful and scholarly way the material I blogged about years ago in a series called Freud's Ghost and more recently in the series The Varieties and Illusions of Religious Experience.

The title of the book is called "The Authenticity of Faith" and I'm building it around this quote by Abraham Joshua Heschel:

It has long been known that need and desire play a part in the shaping of beliefs. But is it true, as modern psychology often claims, that our religious beliefs are nothing but attempts to satisfy subconscious wishes? That the conception of God is merely a projection of self-seeking emotions, an objectification of subjective needs, the self in disguise? Indeed, the tendency to question the genuineness of man’s concerns about God is a challenge no less serious than the tendency to question the existence of God. We are in greater need of a proof for the authenticity of faith than of a proof for the existence of God.

There has been a video going around pitting Ayn Rand against Jesus, pushing the religiously conservative in the GOP to pick who they will follow. The video is mainly targeted at Paul Ryan's (R-Wi) district. Ryan, the architect behind the current GOP budget, is on the video saying, "Ayn Rand more than anyone else did a fantastic job of explaining the morality of capitalism."



The video is, clearly, a bit of political propaganda and I expect quite a few readers will want to take a moment to defend Rush, Paul, Fox and Friends, and Paul Ryan. Feel free to do so in the comments.

For my part, my interest in the video is less political than theological. The video made me wonder, given the ascendance of Rand among many American Christians, if Rand's worldview can be reconciled with Christianity.

My question is simple: Can you be a follower of Jesus and be a follower of Ayn Rand?

For my own part, while I love The Fountainhead, I answer that question with a "No."

There's been lots of Internet conversation about the most recent issue of Christianity Today's lead piece regarding science and the search for a "historical" Adam and Eve:



The lead article--The Search for the Historical Adam--can be read here. The CT editorial--No Adam, No Eve, No gospel--can be read here.

I don't spend a lot of time writing about these issues. Mainly, because I just don't think there is a debate here. I think the data--cosmological, geological, paleontological, archeological, and biological--pretty clearly point to 3.5 billion year old earth and the evolutionary Tree of Life. I tend to assume this is obvious. Which is why I don't write a lot about evolution as I see commonly done on blogs I frequent (see Jesus Creed and Exploring Our Matrix). I don't want to spend a lot of time trying to convince people of something I think is pretty clear.

Consider something I'll call the T-Rex test. Take someone to a natural history museum, point to the T-Rex, and ask them the following: How do you get that on Noah's ark?

But this stuff is apparently not obvious to many. Which I keep forgetting. But I really shouldn't given some of my own experiences in this regard. For example:

A few years ago I got an invitation from a university many consider to be a flagship school in American evangelicalism. There was a position opening up at this school that was to focus on research regarding the integration of psychology and theology. And given that that is what I do, the Psychology Department there wanted to know if I'd be interested in applying for the position. The first step was a phone interview with the head of the search committee. During the interview we talked a lot about the position and how my ongoing research, interests, and skills fit with what the school was looking for. It looked like a good fit.

But after that discussion we moved on to any questions I had about the school and department. Mainly I asked about the intellectual climate at the school, politically and theologically. ACU is a pretty diverse and open-minded place (for a faith-based school). But this was an evangelical school I was talking to and I'm not an evangelical.

One of the issues we got around to was evolution. I learned that it was a controversial topic on the campus. I found out later that every faculty member on the campus had to sign, annually, a statement of faith that endorsed Adam and Eve to be "the historical parents of the entire human race."

That gave me pause. So I asked, "Well, one of my research interests is integrating evolutionary psychology with Christian theology. I'd like to write a book about this someday. Could I do that on your campus?" He was unsure. So I said, "Listen, I have a blog where I write about my work and where I've sketched out some of this engagement with evolutionary psychology. Why don't you, your search committee, and your Provost go to Experimental Theology and tell me if I'm a fit for your school."

A week later they got back to me. Thanks, they said, but looking over the blog they felt they could no longer recommend me for the position. While they said that this blog was "fascinating and scholarly" and that the subjects I write about "are essential ones that deserve full discussion in Christian higher education," ultimately the positions I take would put me "in conflict with the statement of faith for the college."

No worries. I'm extraordinarily happy where I am. But the exchange really was an eye opener. Is that the intellectual climate of flagship schools in American evangelicalism? Seriously? A member of a Psychology Department at an intellectually elite evangelical school couldn't pursue research integrating Christian theology and evolutionary psychology?

Apparently not.

Yesterday I found myself on the front page of our local newspaper, the Abilene Reporter News. I think this qualifies for my 15 minutes (or 580 words) of fame.

What made the occasion particularly nice was how two good friends were involved. First, the article about my book was next to an article about another book written by my good friend Mike Cope. Megan's Secrets is the story of the short but prophetic life of Mike and Diane's mentally-handicapped daughter Megan. From the book description:

She was a beautiful pint-sized girl with a big love. And the best scholars in the world couldn't teach what she did in her brief life. Megan died at age ten. But her life has exposed some of the insanities of the world and revealed four life-giving secrets.

One secret is simply this: Second choices don't mean we miss out on life. Sometimes our second choices define and shape us in ways we'd never change even if we could.

Lovingly written by Megan's father, this unique inspirational book wraps these four secrets in stories that will restore hope to those grieving a death or second choice, and all who have a heart for a spunky little girl whose only spoken words were, ''I'm Megan!''

All readers who long to see modern-day examples of the ''little ones'' Jesus held on his lap and loved will be inspired and moved to laugh and cry and exult in God's incredible wisdom spoken through a disabled child.

What Mike discovers is that life with Megan--who slept only three hours a night--was exhausting, challenging, even disappointing, but also filled with joy and secrets that he is ready to tell the world.

The other joy of the ARN article was that the photographer assigned to my story was Greg Kendall-Ball. Back when I started blogging Greg was a big help and encouragement to me as he shared advice and insight running his popular and epic (no other word for it) blog (Greg also helped Mike with his blogging as well). Since those days, Greg's blog has shifted gears, where it now features Greg's work as a photojournalist. If you want to know what life in Abilene, TX looks and feels like, follow Greg's blog.

Given my research into Christian aesthetic judgments (my recent article in the Journal of Psychology and Christianity about what I call "The Thomas Kinkade Effect" can be found online here) I was interested in this post by Tony Woodlief at Image entitled Bad Christian Art.

Woodlief's main argument:

I’m convinced that bad art derives, like bad literary theory, from bad theology. To know God falsely is to write and paint and sculpt and cook and dance Him falsely. Perhaps it’s not poor artistic skill that yields bad Christian art, in other words, but poor Christianity.

My take about Woodlief's observation is that he's being more descriptive than explanatory. Yes, we know that the theology is bad. But why? In my published work I attempt to provide an answer. From the conclusion of Beck et al. (2010):

The question of the present study was less concerned with the motives of Christian artists than it was with the psychology of Christian aesthetic judgments. Specifically, why might some Christian art be preferred over others? Recent research (Landau et al., 2006) has suggested that aesthetic preferences might be influenced by existential needs. That is, artwork might help us confront a reality we find distressing and incoherent. Thus, some Christian art might be sought out because it provides existential comfort or solace. This is a wholly legitimate impulse to bring to art, but it may have impacts upon aesthetic choices and judgments.

Woodlief goes on to list various aspects of Christian art and discusses the theology behind each. The final aspect is Cleanliness:

Cleanliness: I confess that the best way to deter me from watching a movie is to tell me it’s “wholesome.” This is because that word applied to art is a lie on its face, because insofar as art is stripped of the world’s sin and suffering it is not really whole at all.

This seems to be a failing—on the part of artist and consumer alike—in what my Orthodox friends call theosis, or walk, as my evangelical friends say. In short, if Christian novels and movies and blogs and speeches must be stripped of profanity and sensuality and critical questions, all for the sake of sparing us scandal, then we have to wonder what has happened that such a wide swath of Christendom has failed to graduate from milk to meat.

Again, this analysis is of interest to me as I've done research into the psychology of profanity in Christian populations which I've blogged about before (an online version of my 2009 Journal of Psychology and Theology article about profanity is here). More, Chapter 10 of Unclean--Sex and Privy--gets into these issues. The goal of all this work has been to get past a surface-level description to shed light on the underlying psychology behind the Christian impulse toward "cleanliness" and "wholesomeness."