Book Review: The Blue Parakeet by Scot McKnight

The Blue Parakeet by Scot McKnight is perfect for you if any of the following apply:

• You've ever wanted to let the Bible become a bigger influence on your life, but then when you tried to do so, you found out that the Bible doesn't really cooperate as easily as you'd like it to in telling you what to do.
• You've ever had or liked a bumper sticker that says, "God says it, I believe it, that settles it."
• You've ever been really motivated to read through the Bible, then began and perhaps finished Genesis, but then felt utterly lost and bored by mid-Exodus, or if you were really tough- perhaps you even made it into Leviticus or Deuteronomy.
• You've ever wondered how in the world the Old Testament can actually say some of the stuff it says, like God commanding his people to wipe out other groups- including their women and children.
• You've ever wondered how in the world the New Testament can actually say some of the stuff it says, like saying it's sinful for women to braid their ha and that they will be saved through childbearing.
• You've thought that the Bible may be interesting, but felt unsure of what it's supposed to have to do with your life today.
• You either enjoy or are completely puzzled by these Scripture Plaques You Won't Find at the Christian Bookstore.

In the book, McKnight does a masterful and entertaining job of exploring what the Bible is (and what it isn't), what we should do with it (and what we shouldn't), and how we can benefit from it. By telling his own story, he gently but persuasively makes the point that even the most committed Bible-believing Christians among us don't really believe that they should do everything the Bible says they should do. (For example, I've known a lot of deeply devout Christians, but I still have yet to know anyone who has done what we get on to the rich young ruler for not doing: selling everything we own and giving the money to the poor.)

McKnight helps us to take our blinders off and realize that regardless of what we claim to believe about the Bible, all of us pick and choose from what it says. (Good thing, too, because I don't think stoning is a good punishment today for much of anything.) So, since an honest examination reveals that we do pick and choose even if we don't realize it, we need to pay very good attention to why and how we do so.

A central claim he makes is that the Bible needs to be read as Story. (By this, he doesn't mean to say story=myth, but that the whole thing follows a plot- with a beginning, middle, and end). He contrasts this way of reading the Bible to others, such as reading it as a collection of laws, a collection of blessings and promises, something onto which we can project our own ideas (like a Rohrschach inkblot), or as a giant puzzle that we have to piece together. He claims that by reading the Bible as Story, we are able to see its parts as "wiki-stories" which all contribute to the larger story that begins with humanity's union with God, continues through our separation from God, and points forward to our eventual re-union with God.

In this way, the Story of the Bible can help us to lead more discerning lives. It helps us to consider how God has worked in the past, how God may be working today, and (knowing a bit of where it's all headed) how we can align our actions with what God will be doing in the future.

So what about the blue parakeet? McKnight gives a full metaphor in the book from his bird-watching experience in his own back yard, but in short he says, "Blue parakeet passages are oddities in the Bible that we prefer to cage and silence rather than to permit into our sacred mental gardens." Passages like these (and I think most of these Scripture plaques would qualify as blue parakeets to him) should wake us up to realizing that the Bible is often not what we've thought it to be, and that it can only be what it was intended to be when we let it be what it is. (That's my own convoluted wording- not his.)

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Scripture Plaques You Won't Find at the Christian Bookstore, #15

[This post is one of a series of potential Christian plaques that we would never find at a Christian bookstore. See the rest of the list here.]

Leviticus 19:18 gets quoted a lot, and for good reason. Jesus himself pointed to it when he was asked to identify the greatest commandment, and part of his response was, "love your neighbor as yourself." How different would things be if, instead of referring his hearers at the time and throughout the centuries to Leviticus 19:18, he had gone to the next verse, Leviticus 19:19:

You know, I've never paid much attention before, but I may need to do some serious cleaning out of my closet. And come to think of it, I bet that every T-shirt with Jesus' face on it is probably 100% cotton.

A Prayer for the Second Sunday of Advent (Year B)

[This is one of a series of Prayers for the Christian Year. To see the other posts, click here.]

Living, loving Father,

You forgive the iniquity of Your people, and You forgive our sin. Because we need to hear Your voice, we turn to You with all our hearts today. You speak peace to us, even when it involves calling us to repentance. So we pray, Lord, that You would clear our hearts. Heal our rough places, so that You may dwell more fully in us.

Our lives are not long, but we know that our days are in Your hands. You care for us like a loving shepherd, feeding us, gathering us in Your arms, and carrying us home.

Your patience with us is unfathomable, waiting and giving us chance after chance to repent, change our thinking and our direction, and come to You.

But do not delay the return of Your Son, our Savior, Jesus. Use us to prepare the way for His return as You used John to prepare Israel for His coming. Until that day, help us to live lives of peace, spotless and blameless, as we eagerly await the day when we will see Him, and be at home forever in His righteousness in the new heavens and the new earth.

Until that day comes, we will continue to pray in the words of Him whose sandals we are not worthy to untie, saying:

Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name, Your kingdom come, Your will be done,  on earth as in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us.

Save us from the time of trial and deliver us from evil.

For the kingdom, the power, and the glory are Yours now and for ever. Amen

Notes:

The readings for the week, on which this prayer is based, are:

• Isaiah 40:1-11: Five of the six Old Testament readings from the beginning of Advent through Christmas Day in Year B come from Isaiah.
• Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13: Part of a Psalm that describes a trust in God's deliverance, despite the appearance of current circumstances. It foreshadows the coming of the Messiah and of his messenger ("Righteousness will go before him, and will make a path for his steps").
• 2 Peter 3:8-15a: Peter points his readers' attention toward the day when judgment will come, the earth and heavens will be destroyed with fire, and new heavens and earth will be a place "where righteousness is at home." "While you are waiting for these things, strive to be found by him at peace."
• Mark 1:1-8: The gospel readings for Year B focus on Mark, and this is the second of two gospel readings in Advent come from this book. This is Mark's introduction to the entire gospel ("The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God..."), and he moves immediately into his account of John the Baptist being the one whom prophecies said would prepare the way of the Lord. John recognized that the Messiah would be more powerful than he was, who would baptize with the Holy Spirit, rather than only with water.

Completely Unhelpful Things to Say to Someone in Grief, Part 4

[This is part of a series of posts on completely unhelpful things to say to someone in grief. See the others here.] In Part 2 of this series of posts, I posted this picture of a Christmas ornament that I thought represented something really unhelpful to say to someone in grief:

This ad for a Christmas ornament was the first time I'd seen those words, but in the months since I've continually seen them in different places. I've seen friends turn to them in support after losing someone, and I've had pastor friends recommend them to those in grief. So I thought I'd revisit that post and explain, while treading lightly, why I think it's completely unhelpful.

Hopefully you haven't been looking through a book of options for verses to print on memorial cards at a funeral home anytime recently, but if you have been the words from the ornament have probably been in there as part of a short poem:

God saw you getting tired and a cure was not to be so he put his arms around you and whispered, "Come to Me"

With tearful eyes we watched you and saw you pass away and although we love you dearly we could not make you stay.

A Golden heart stopped beating hard working hands at rest. God broke our hearts to prove to us He only takes the best

I can understand the sentiment and experience behind it, and don't particularly have any problem with it... until the last two lines: I'm quite sure that God is not in a habit of breaking people's hearts in order to prove to us that he only takes the best. I don't attribute the tumor that took my Dad's life to God, and I certainly don't attribute it to God's desire to prove a point to us, and I absolutely don't attribute it to God's desire to prove a point that he only takes the best.

I would never want to love or trust a God who does things like that. My Dad died of cancer, as did each of his parents, because our bodies- like all of creation- are imperfect and eagerly awaiting the day when God will make all things new. Sickness is a terrible part of life on earth, but one of the reasons for Christ's coming as a human was so that he would defeat death. He destroyed it, and we have to pay attention to the historic Christian belief that the resurrection that brought Jesus from the grave in a renewed, death-defeating body will happen one day in Christ to my Dad and all of us.

That's a much more Biblical understanding than that God was sitting in heaven and decided I needed to learn a lesson, so he implanted a tumor in my Dad's esophagus. The poem says that God took my Dad, breaking our hearts, just to make a point to us? That's a God whose good side I'm going to try to stay on, but from whom I'm going to keep a safe distance. I'll certainly have trouble trusting him trusting him with anything or anyone else meaningful in my life. (Be careful kids, and please don't be one of the best!)

And how could there possibly be any way for it to be true that God "only takes the best"? Who takes the rest? And, sitting at the bedside of my loved one, how could I know the difference? Perhaps getting one of these ornaments as a gift somehow plays a role?

A passage of Scripture that has fascinated me for some time is when John says, "This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at all" (1 John 1:5). Jesus' friend, who saw his miraculous, outstanding life, then saw the worst of things happen to him, others he loved, and surely endured some hard things himself, summarized the entire message of Jesus in this way. Not: "Jesus died for you and you can go to heaven when you die." Not: "Live a holy life so that God will be pleased with you and you can avoid his wrath." No, he said, "God is light and in him there is no darkness at all."

Another way of saying this is: There's nothing bad about God. God is completely and utterly good and trustworthy. God won't deliberately take someone from you (even if they are one of the best) so that you'll have a long-lasting memorable object lesson.

God was always good to my Dad, he continues to be so, and will always be so to every one of us, not least in the day when our bodies and our world will be made new again as the Scriptures say.

Last Thanksgiving was the Last with My Dad

[The last picture we have of my Dad was taken last Thanksgiving. I'll insert it here once we're back in town.] [This is one of the posts telling a story from the life of my Dad. Click here to see the others.]

We spent Thanksgiving last year with my parents. It was almost six months after my Dad's terminal cancer diagnosis, and he was not doing well. He had been unable to rest for months, and he was both more tired and must have been in more pain that any of us were aware of or could imagine. After we were there with him on Thanksgiving, he was in the inpatient Hospice unit of our hospital by Sunday night, and he died on Thursday.

Obviously there are ways in which last Thanksgiving is a hard memory, but as I've been giving thanks this year, I was somewhat surprised that my memories of last year came with a real sense of gratitude:

I'm thankful that we were able to be there with him and my Mom and that it wasn't just the two of them.

I'm thankful that in the evening after our Thanksgiving meal, we were able to tell him that he had another grandchild on the way.

I'm thankful that our last picture and video of him were with our son at his side. They loved one another and brought each other a lot of joy.

I'm thankful that I was there to see how hard a time he was having, as it helped make me ready for him to go. I didn't have any desire to see him have to keep struggling so much.

And on  a lighter but still significant note, I'm thankful that the Cowboys always play on Thanksgiving, and that even if we're with my wife's family in Missouri, they'll let me watch it. It's something that's the same as I would have been doing with him.

In the bigger picture, now that he's been gone a year, I'm simply thankful that by God's grace, life has still turned out to be very good. I couldn't foresee that, because I couldn't imagine life without him. But it's true, and it's one of those things that I can't really explain. I'm okay with that, and really wasn't trying to write this to explain- just to give thanks.

REVEALed: A Lot of People Have Been Here a Long Time Without Growing

[This is one of a series of posts related to the REVEAL Spiritual Life Survey. To see the others, click here.]

In the previous post in the series, I talked about how, although we knew a lot of folks had been in our church for a long time, we were surprised at how high the tenure numbers were: 45% of our congregation had been here for a decade or longer. There were certainly important insights and conclusions given to us from this number, but it isn't even getting into the uniqueness of what REVEAL does. How long people have been here is an easily observable, external thing. Whether they've matured during that time is much harder to quantify, but it's exactly the kind of thing that REVEAL is designed to do.

A core feature of the REVEAL Survey is its Spiritual Continuum Profile, which helps a church's leaders to get a glimpse of the spiritual maturity of their congregation, based upon four segments:

• Exploring Christ: These people are connected with a church to some degree and exploring what it means to be a Christian, but have yet to make a Christian commitment.
• Growing in Christ: Despite the segment's name, these people may or may not be experiencing growth. They have come to profess the orthodox Christian beliefs as being true, but still have yet to arrange their lives around their faith in any significant ways, perhaps with the exception of church attendance.
• Close to Christ: Characteristics of this group include that they participate in spiritual practices with some regularity, and they exhibit higher degrees of love for God and others.
• Christ-Centered: Their relationship with Christ is the most dominant factor in shaping the lives of these people. It profoundly influences their use of time and resources, their attitudes, their practices, their levels of love for God and others, and their willingness to sacrifice anything for Christ.

In most churches, the second segment (Growing in Christ) is the largest, and that was the case with us. However, as it was with how long people in our congregation had been here, even though we weren't surprised that this was our largest segment, it was eye-opening to see how large the percentage of our people in this segment was: 46%.

So far in this post and the previous one, I've only mentioned information which REVEAL directly tells us, but what follows is my own analysis of the combination of these first two statistics.

So, our tenure numbers indicated that 45% of the people in our church have been here for a decade or longer. Then this number indicates that 46% of our people profess the right answers regarding their beliefs, but still have yet to arrange their lives around their faith in significant ways.

Certainly, although those percentages are very close to one another, there's nothing to indicate that they represent exactly the same group of people. In other words, there's no reason for me to walk down the halls on Sunday morning, pass by someone whom I know has been around for more than a decade, and assume that because they're part of the 45% who have been here for a decade or longer, they must also be part of the 46% who profess the beliefs, but need to start letting it affect their lifestyles. They can't be exactly the same groups of people, but the percentages are large enough that we can safely conclude there's a significant number of people in who would be counted as a part of both groups: people who have been here a long time and haven't grown.

So although we can't put a number on how many people have been here a long time and haven't moved forward, here's my best non-scientific shot at quantifying this group: there's a lot of 'em. There are a lot of people who have made our church their home for years, even decades, without experiencing any significant change in their beliefs and attitudes about God, without growing into greater levels of love for God and others, without maturing as followers of Jesus, without experiencing the abundant kind of life that Jesus said he came to offer us. (I'm using "them" here, but don't worry- I realize "they" aren't the biggest hurdle to our church doing great ministry.)

So what does this teach us, and what can we do about it? REVEAL gave us another great insight that helps to explore those questions, which will be the next post in the series: A lot of people have been here a long time without growing, and don't even know that they should be.

Practicing Thanksgiving

It's good to have this week of Thanksgiving when we're deliberate about stirring up our gratitude. For most of us, it seems like we spend much of the other 51 weeks of the year (not around Thanksgiving) consumed by the few things that aren't right rather than paying attention to the abundance of things for which we can't possibly give sufficient thanks.

An example of this, which you may have heard before, is in the picture above. In his book titled Prayer, George Buttrick wrote,

A lecturer to a group of businessmen displayed a sheet of white paper in which was one blot. He asked what they saw. All answered, "A blot." The test was unfair; it invited the wrong answer. Nevertheless, there is an ingratitude in human nature by which we notice the black disfigurement and forget the widespread mercy. We need to deliberately call to mind the joys of our journey. Perhaps we should try to write down the blessings of one day. We might begin: we could never end: there are not pens or paper enough in all the world. The attempt would remind us of our "vast treasure of content." (as quoted by James Bryan Smith in The Good and Beautiful God, pp. 67-68)

So this week, how do I pay attention to the "widespread mercy" which is always so much greater, so much more abundant, so much more generously and extravagantly given than I am normally aware? Let's say that my awareness of God's goodness to me is normally like a sensation of being wet. On most of my days, it's not like I'm completely ignorant of it, but it's like I have a feeling of walking in a lightly sprinkling rain. I'm aware that it's there, but it's not really stopping me from going about any of my business.

But, when I stop to pay attention, I realize that although I thought that I was only walking in a lightly sprinkling rain, I'm really swimming in the middle of the ocean, flooded by God's good, undeserved gifts to me on every side. When I open my eyes to see it, I feel like I have to open my mouth (or in this case, I guess it's my fingers, since I'm typing) and do the best inadequate job that I can of saying "Thank You" to God.

Buttrick is right. Writing down the blessings of one day is a project that we can start, but can't finish.