How a Christian song turned me into a humanist...

Well, sort of.

I was randomly singing my favorite song yesterday, which is "Micah 6:8" by Charlie Hall. For reasons I don't fully understand, the lyrics that I have always loved and admired suddenly struck me as not just a powerful call to living right, but as a musical embodiment of a powerful truth, the implication of which came rushing into my brain all at once. Here is the first verse and chorus:

You could feed the whole world with the crumbs of old bread
Spread the good news through dreams and stones
With a breath of the wind You could raise up the dead
But You ask us to go

chorus
Help us love mercy, help us do justly,
Help us walk humbly with You God

I had previously resonated most with the call to action and simplicity of the message. But it suddenly struck me - the song is right. God could have done those things, but instead chose to give us the responsibility. God has shifted the focus of activity from himself (best seen in the 'Creation' account) to humanity. We are not only the focus of activity, but the source of the activity.

That's not to say that I believe God isn't actively involved; I believe that he is. But the ring of 'truth' in the song is impossible to ignore. We, as humans, are called to help our fellow Man become what God has modeled for us in Christ.

While some may bristle at this theological humanism, a few others (often spurred by Jared) and I have been exploring theological humanism for a while now. It doesn't make me abandon God (in a personal, relational way), or even distance God (in a deistic sort of way). In fact, it makes me feel more alive and connected to God to realize the honor and power he has given humanity... and "with great power comes great responsibility."

True, there are huge implications about this thought that has been so succinctly embodied in this Charlie Hall song and that pierces my soul; but I don't shy away from them. I don't feel that I'm abandoning God, only perceptions of God that are not really justified, by the Bible or otherwise. For me, pondering this doesn't make God less real, but actually makes him more real.

I wonder if I will ever start living what I am being convicted of. I wonder if I will ever fully comprehend the implications of the 'truths' embodied in thoughts like this. I wonder what is realistic for me to achieve in my life.

I simply pray to God, daily now, "Help us love mercy, help us do justly, help us walk humbly with you God."

The Rural Kingdom?

My time in the beautiful high country of Arizona has brought to surface a perennial problem I am having since I’ve been exposed to the idea of actually bringing the kingdom to the world around me. The problem is struggle with is how to bring the kingdom to those around me in meaningful ways. All the discussions and models of radical kingdom living that I have been exposed to have been situated in urban areas. The idea of practicing resurrection is easy to envision in an urban area where consumeristic self interest have left decaying urban cores, and where historic oppression in the form of discrimination have created lingering divides that need healing. The needs are obvious.

But what does it mean to be the kingdom in rural areas? What does it look like? My friends Jared and Tina are trying to answer that question while living on a farm outside of Canton. My friends Robert and Kirsten are trying to answer that question while living in the suburbs of Akron. And so the question that I have is, “How do people embody the kingdom in rural areas?”

On his joint blog, Canonfodder.org, Robert has been struggling with the homogeneity of his suburban community. But the answers are far from clear. The answer for him and his family may be to move into a more diverse community, where racial reconciliation (one of several aspects of reconciliation) is easy to engage. But clearly, that is not a “kingdom solution,” to the extent that the massive relocation of people to achieve some hypothetical level of diversity is not only impractical, but likely also harmful. It may be a great answer for how some (comfortable middle-class) people can answer the question for themselves; but what about people who don’t have the means or desire to move? What about those who have been oppressed, and finally have the means to escape that oppression by moving into a different (more affluent, though likely as homogenous) location? Are these people working against the kingdom? I certainly can’t say that with any moral authority.

But I digress. Are not the rural areas of the country, the small and fairly homogenous enclaves that predominate in many parts of the country, equally in need of the kingdom? Are not the areas where “post-modern enlightenment” are just whispers from “liberal city-folk” in need of the kingdom?

I have no plans on moving to a rural area anytime soon (well, technically, I live in a rural area, but I'm only 20 minutes to a mall and 15 minutes to downtown Canton, so I don't think of it as rural... or is it because my heart is really in Canton anyway?). But life is full of uncertainties. Who knows where opportunities will take me in the future? But in any case, can I really claim to have a message of the kingdom that only envisions urban manifestations? I think this is one area of the emergent discussion that needs more attention. I hope that through prayer, creative meditation, experience, and discussion that I will be contributing to the discussion more fully.

I guess I still love Arizona...

Or at least parts of it. I am so impressed with the Show Low/Pinetop-Lakeside area. Estimates put the population of Show Low at about 10,000, and Pinetop-Lakeside at about 5,000. So these twin contiguous cites have a combined population of about 15,000. No doubt there is some additional people in surrounding unincorporated areas. But this is definitely not a major city. True, it is the largest “metro” area in east central Arizona. For my personal comparison, this area is a little smaller than Kirksville, Missouri, where I went to medical school. But this area is even further from the nearest major city (Phoenix is four hours away). Despite its small size, this community has nearly all the amenities that I would desire. It has several Mexican and Chinese restaurants, as well as a Thai restaurant and a Japanese hibachi grill/sushi bar. In terms of fast food, there is everything, from the national stuff (KFC, Taco Bell, Burger King, McDonalds, etc) to Western favorites (Jack in the Box and Samuri Sam’s). There is both a Lowes and a Home Depot. There is adequate shopping, and also 13 movie screens, plus an additional 4 discout theater screens. There is plenty of hiking, fishing, and land available. It is half an hour from a ski resort. The climate is amazing, too. At 6,300 feet above sea level, it stays relatively cool in the summer (mid to upper 80s), while getting very cold in the winter, with frequent snows. It is high desert, so it is very dry and sunny, but is “green” year round because of the Ponderosa pines.

True, I love cities. And I love Ohio and the green grass that just grows. Sometimes I hate “knowing” the other side of things, because I like both sides so much, sometimes I feel paralyzed. Thankfully, there is more to where you live than the climate or amenities. For me, right now, a faith community and friends who share my values and visions of the Kingdom are most important, and that is what makes Canton, Ohio, “home.”

My trip to the White Mountains of Arizona

We didn’t go on many vacations when I was growing up. Money was always tight, and so what trips we did take were usually local. One of those places that we would periodically go is the White Mountains area of east central Arizona, particularly Show Low and Pinetop-Lakeside. It is about 4 hours from Phoenix. We often would stay at this place called Lake of the Woods, a cabin resort. We would go up to Lake of the Woods, rent a cabin, and fish in the private lake, or drive to some of the surrounding lakes and fish. The area is entirely in Ponderosa Pines and Junipers. And, of course, it is considerably cooler than Phoenix, which is the ultimate treat.

Every few years or so, my immediate family would get together with my extended family and rent a larger cabin to spend a week. Last year, my family went to the White Mountains and decided to ask me to come this year. I decided to come, and so here I am. I’m in a 4 bedroom, 3 ½ bath cabin at Lake of the Woods. It is sunny and very dry, with highs in the 70s. I’m here with my parents; sister, brother-in-law, and nephew; and my aunt and uncle and two cousins. There are 8 adults, a 12 year old, and a 3 year old… spending an entire week under one roof. Amazingly, we are all still getting along.

My biggest issue is that I don’t have Sprint cell phone coverage here, nor do I have internet access. It is now day four of being in absolute communication blackout. I’ve only gone through minor withdrawals. ☺

It has been fun, and totally stress free. We haven’t been doing much, and there isn’t much of a schedule of events. So far, we have played games such as Scattergories, I have learned (and now love) poker (five card draw and Texas Hold’em), we have fished (though I haven’t… I just sit on the dock with everyone else), we’ve watched TV. My cousin and uncle and I went to the movies, my dad and sister and brother-in-law have gone to the Apache reservation down the road to the casino, and we went horseback riding yesterday. It has been great.

That reminds me. Horseback riding yesterday caused me to be somewhat conflicted. How? Because is flooded my mind with a powerful (as well as laughable and obsolete) self-image that I have had for year growing up. For some reason, ever since I was a little kid coming up to the Arizona “high-country,” I have had this comforting self-image or me riding a horse through a field, with mountains all around. It is fall, and a very crisp morning. I’m wearing jeans, a denim jacket, and a cowboy hat. I can see both my breath, as well as my horse’s. And I’m just trotting through the morning mist, enjoying the peace and solitude. For those who know me, it is obvious why this is an obsolete (and laughable) tableau. I’m too sociable to be a lone cowboy; I’m also too much of a city-boy. Nevertheless, the tableau is deeply embedded in my psyche, and causes me consternation as this image is contrasted with the reality of my life.

I have rambled enough. One final thought for now. The human body is totally amazing! After 4 days, I’m getting close to adapting to the high-altitude, dry air. At 6300 feet above sea level, I’m a mile higher than I’m used to. I was totally tired and had headaches for the first 3 days. My lips are still dry, and I’m having nose bleeds… but I can tell I’m adapting. Humans are one of the only creatures that can so quickly adapt into almost any environment.