Ah, Pity da Fool

I believe that I may have finally listened to my last "Morning Edition from NPR." I surely don't agree with some of my right-wing friends that all NPR's programming is slanted left. And I don't agree with all my liberal friends that NPR and MSNBC are the only "fair and balanced" news programs out there. Yet here comes this bit of "news" - truly an opinion piece - this morning.

http://www.npr.org/2011/08/09/138957812/evangelicals-question-the-existence-of-adam-and-eve#commentBlock

I do chuckle at re-reading the text and the commentary following it. You have the defenders of a "literal interpretation" versus the intelligentsia who seem to shake their heads at the duped, simpletons who simply refuse to accept the theories that have been advanced concerning human evolution. The faith that so many put in the scientific theories is a religion in and of itself, it seems.

I myself don't have a problem with evolution vs creationism. I'm comfortable in my belief that God created man and woman. I'm good with that. And I see the point that science puts forth - that we have evolved over eons from primates to modern homo sapiens.

It's like when I tell my daughter, Elaina, that she is the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Then I tell another daughter, Isabella, that she is the most beautiful girl in the whole world. For me, both statements are absolute. They are true. They are law. And they are not contradictory.

My real problem with the story as written is the two camps involved. Barbara Bradley Hagerty states that according to a Pew research poll, 4 in 10 Americans believe that God created humankind. She states that this is a central tenet of much of conservative Christianity. But from that point forth, the pro-creationism camp are "evangelicals" (at one point a Baptist is consulted - not sure if they qualify). Come to that, I'm not sure if I qualify either.

I was raised in the Episcopal Church and many of the folks I knew believed that God created Adam and Eve. I went to Catholic school for four years. There I was taught that God created Adam and Eve. I attended a Methodist college. There I was taught that God created Adam and Eve. I had a Jewish roommate. He believed that God created Adam and Eve.

I have researched that Judaism accepts the Genesis story of creation with as much "literal" vs poetic interpretation as do Christians. Genesis was written by a Jew. Why are Jews not even mentioned in the article? I have researched that Islam accepts the Genesis story of creation with as much "literal" vs poetic interpretation as do Christians. The Qur'an seems to give some leeway and many Muslims accept evolutionary theory. But I'm curious to know, how many out of 10 Christians, Jews, and Muslims accept that God made humankind. Remember, the quote from the poll is Americans, not Christians.


So yet again, the mainstream media looks to make me, an educated person of sound mind and body (mostly), lose "intellectual currency and respectability" for believing a theory that to me, has even more grounding, than the theory of evolution. Evangelicals are the defendants in a new Scopes trial, in which the verdict has been pronounced before the opening arguments have begun.

Map all the genomes you want; for me "there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

So I shook my head, changed the channel, and put on some worship music.

the swim back

I know that psychologists, behavoirists, and the like can tell us the decision-making process that occurs in the brain. I'm sure there's a sequence of steps that can be clearly delineated; put into some clean flow chart with little squares and diamonds of if-then scenarios. We weigh how a decision will affect us, what are its relative merits, the negative consequences of an action, or even no action at all.

But what about the decisions that seem to make no sense? What if it's a spontaneous choice and the consequences are thrown to the wind? Or what if, dare i say, it is a decision or choice that is made purely on faith?

My faith, my relationship with God, is (unfortunately) cyclical. I go through periods of "BFF" with my homie Jesus - these are the crests. King of the world! Ten feet tall and bulletproof. And then come the times where I don't feel any kind of closeness - these are the troughs. Eliot's pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas. My faith is the good ship Lollipop thrown where the winds of chance would have me. Somehow I really don't think that's what He was looking for when He was nailed to a criminal's cross for me.

So, really what's my problem then? What's corrupt in my decision making process to make a determined and final choice to follow Christ, to live His commandments, and obey His Word?

There's a point in the futuristic movie Gattaca where two brothers are competing by seeing who can swim out on a lake the farthest. They did this many times as children and Anton (the gentically superior brother) always won. In their 20-somethings they repeat their childish test of manhood. This time, however, Vincent (the genetically inferior, sickly brother) is able to, not only keep up with his brother, but surpass him. When finally Anton asks how Vincent is "doing this?" Vincent replies, "You wanna know how I did it? This is how I did it, Anton... I never saved anything for the swim back."


(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hZKZSiCmXLQ)

Vincent was able to acheive something his own brother could not even conceive, committing himself in a way that his brother never could. So, here's the question to consider, that I ask myself time and again... what do I hold back from God?

I'd like to say nothing. I hold nothing back from God. I'm Vincent. I'm in the water. I'm with you Jesus. Yo! We're doing freestyle, breaststroke, heck even butterfly, all continuing in the same direction, Lord. Look at me, everyone! I am so holy!

But in my heart, I am not Vincent. As much as I may want to be, and want the world to think I am. I am the "superior" brother... I am Anton. I hold something back from my committment, from my willingness to not only get in the water and swim, but to continue down a course I am wholly committed to, where there's no turning back. What do you hold back? Which are you... Anton or are you Vincent? In your heart, you know the answer.

Here's the kicker. So does He. He knows how far you're willing to go. And I've got to think it saddens the heart of God to see so many of us in the water, swimming right along, not ever living the life of Vincent, always storing just enough energy to turn from the path, to turn away from Him. And despite all that negativity, that lack of committment, He still loves.

in the quiet moments that i have with just myself and God...


i want to be Vincent.

Maverick, Goose, Jesus, and Me

I am a child of the late 80's/early 90's. Upon moving back from Germany to the States in 1987, a welcome home gift was the movie "Top Gun" on VHS. Oh yeah. A young Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, Kelly McGillis, music by Kenny Loggins... does it really get any better, Iceman? I don't think so.


I do think it somewhat odd that a certain scene from the movie came to mind this past Sunday morning while I was praying at the altar during church. Midway through the movie, during a flying exercise at the Top Gun school, Maverick and Goose's aircraft flies through Iceman's jetwash and they begin to lose control. The situation escalates, Maverick fights for control of the aircraft until completely losing control - ending with the jet in a "flat spin."


Iceman can only watch and radio back that Maverick's in trouble and heading out to sea.


Maverick and Goose are talking throughout this fast-paced and charged scene. As the jet spins, the centrifugal forces pin Maverick against the canopy of the cockpit. "This is not good" is one line that comes to mind. The scene climaxes with Maverick calling repeatedly to Goose, "Eject! Eject! Eject! Eject!" Goose is finally able to reach the ejection handles and they are ejected, Maverick safely, Goose fatally hurt when he is ejected into the canopy.


This scene is a very apropros metaphor of what my life has become. One event set a series of thoughts, feelings, questionings, and doubts spiralling into my life. And I fought for control. I am a man, a guy - that's what we do - fight for control. I just wanted to fight it out, right my aircraft, and keep going mach 10 with my hair on fire. That didn't happen.


The harder I fight for control, the worse the spin. I am losing my bearings - I have a pretty good feeling that I could completely lose the horizon, not able to even correctly point towards the heavens or the earth.


And I know it's happening and I fight harder. I am in a flat spin. I can communicate with everyone around me. I can remain calm amidst the chaos. But, as we all have, I have learned to hide it - to put up the facade. The worse the spin, though, the more the reality of my crashing comes through.


But you know... as I think about it, I'm not sure I'm even calling "eject!" I am alone in the cockpit. (How ironic the whole, Jesus is my co-pilot bit.) There are three courses of action from here: 1) crash 2) regain control (not likely at this point) 3) someone else has to pull the eject handles.


At one point in my faith journey, I could have just turned to Him and asked. "If it's not too much trouble there Lord, mind reaching over and pulling that cord hanging there?" No problemo. Right now, I'm not there.


To carry the analogy futher, I have wingmen. They know who they are. All some of them can do is radio back and say, "Bryan is in trouble, he's heading out to sea." But there are a select few who posses supernatural abilities, who are willing to miracle their way into my aircraft and pull the handles. One I met this past Sunday for the first time. Others I've known for years.


I suppose that's why it's so important for men to have a couple of guys who know us. Because we don't ask for help. We're in control and we feel that we can regain control when necessary. But what about when we're in a flat spin? When we're pinned to the glass, heading out to sea? We need an intercessor, someone who can do what we cannot.


Truly, I hope that my friends can turn to God and start handing control of their own aircraft over to Him. Again, I am not there. I have gotten myself in such a predicament that I don't trust myself to let go of the stick and turn the aircraft over to Him. Wow.

Wingmen cannot do it all. There has to be a cusp that, when reached, a decision must be made on my part; to hand over control... or crash on my own.

LifePoint and Bob Dylan

It seems only fitting that music - which Donavon and I share a deep love of - is how I attempt to convey my thoughts and love of LifePoint Church.

Let's get something straight really quickly - I am not a big Bob Dylan fan, but I can appreciate his role in our American music culture. Some of his songs I dig, others I don't. So it seemed somewhat out of place for me to fall so in love with a song he wrote two years before I was born - "Shelter From the Storm."

When my family and I came to LifePoint just under a year ago, there were maybe 35 give or take, on Sunday mornings. Studs were up, but no insulation or sheetrock. A/C was spotty and I've sweated through some services. The heart, though... the heart was so strong. Donavon's vision of what a church should be - its mission, its function, and its role - was something the Manuel family could share and follow. I think it was the third service we attended where his sermon included references to both Spock and circumcision - I knew that we were onto something special. :-)

And so we became LifePointers (I always liked "Lifers" but I was never able to sell it). Valerie, Caleb, Lizzie, and Alexander, Phil and Misty and their family, the Callenders, Russell, Kellye and Wesley, Bunner, Carrie, Preston and Monique and Lacey, Aaron, Josh, and the wild boys, JMill, Bill and Linda, DJ and Wendy and Madison, Dewaine and Stephanie and family...these people and so many more - I couldn't wait to see each week. We shared the same heart - the same vision of Donavon's - that this church, vintage and still relevant, could turn the world absolutely upside down. Check your hang-ups and judgements at the door folks, cause the people in this place have nothing but love for God's children, found, lost, and those many of us somewhere in-between.

So getting back to Bob Dylan's "Shelter from the Storm"

My favorite three stanzas are:

'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

LifePoint has been my shelter, my refuge from the storm. I abhor that the word "church" is used so often to mean "building." I think of church as the people, the body of believers, the bride to Jesus' bridegroom. LifePoint is not a building. That building could be flattened, shattered, smashed, obliterated, wiped from the face of the earth - and we would still be a church. We would still praise and worship and rejoice amid the rubble for God is good, all the time. The point is - LifePoint would still exist. It is infinitely more than a building.

When I, and others, enter into this body of believers, the toil and mud of the world is washed away - my church says, with a warm, loving voice, "Come in. I'll give you shelter from the storm."

When the world of men has strangled me and my spirit, when I am beaten down, hardened, cold and lost, there's an altar made up of my brothers and sisters who say, "Come in, Bryan. We'll give you shelter from the storm."

I have been burned and hunted down. I am laid low and there is nothing of worth left in me, body and soul... and my pastor finds me and prays with me and loves on me - and with his whole heart and being - filled with the Holy Ghost, he says, "Come in, my brother, my son. I'll give you shelter from the storm."

It is a hard world. It is full of traps and snares, so cunning and sly that I don't see them for what they are until I am in their midst. My spirit struggles with my carnality on a minute-by-minute basis at times. I get so lost and twisted in my thinking and in my spirit. It's not a storm. It's a cataclysm of Biblical proportions these days.

Lifepoint, my church, my refuge, is my shelter from the storm. There is a body of believers: some the heart, others the hands, some the mouth, some the mind, some the feet - but all are welcome and all have a place. Come in, she said, I'll give you shelter from the storm.

God brought my family to LifePoint for a reason. So that when we moved many months later more than a thousand miles away, we wouldn't get lost. I know with absolute certainty, we would have gotten lost. Maybe not for too long, but for a time. Words cannot express my heart or how I feel about these people. My words fall utterly short.

I conclude this, a parting letter of sorts, the only way I know how to:

my friends, I love you.

Bryan

War, Christianity, and Rage Against the Machine

The ways in which humans have fought has "evolved" (for lack of a better word) over the millenia. Even as recently as two hundred years ago the British considered the American colonists cowards for actually taking cover from incoming fire. Since September 11, 2001 our lexicon has changed to include words like "insurgency" and "guerrilla." Why don't these Taliban and Al Qaeda fighters just fight pitched battles? Guerrilla fighting as a form of warfare can be much more effective than "conventional" war.

Through the use of guerrilla tactics, fighters have been much more effective at harassing and defeating their enemies than if they massed all their troops and fought "The Battle of Baghdad" or the "The Battle of Kabul." Limited troops and limited resources meant they had to change the way the war was waged to have any hope of success.

For thousands of years Christians have struggled with the most effective and appropriate methods to follow Jesus' command: "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19). We have waged a war of sorts, sometimes figurative, sometimes literal. We have not always gotten it right. Atrocities are committed in wars, by people who lose their way. Is all of America represented by the slaughter of innocents at My Lai? Are all Christians represented by the horrors committed during the Crusades? Are all Muslims represented by those 19 hijackers on September 11?

And yet as flawed humans, we do judge large groups by the actions of a select few. We see evidence of that in our racial profiling, our prejudice, our language of hatred and bigotry. All Christians are not represented by the anti-abortion advocate who murdered an abortion-performing doctor at the doctor's church earlier this year. All non-Christians are not represented by the Minnesotan who shot to death the anti-abortion protester on a street corner in front of a high school less than two weeks ago.

How can we, as Christians, wage the battles that we should? Now more than ever - there is a world to save. There is a God of love, mercy, and forgiveness and we are His ambassadors to the world. We need to start getting His message right. Its been distorted, manipulated, lied about, and abused long enough.

Again, how do we wage the battles that need to be fought? The Word of God is not a club that we should use to beat the world into submission. That is not the will of God. In our minds, we must start to assume the mentality of the guerrilla fighter. Yes, we've got the power of God in us - filled with the Holy Ghost and His authority and I believe there is a time and place for that in the battle. But we need not always fight the pitched battle, rather we change our tactics to make our fighting that much more effective.

My mission objective is not to get people to come to my church. Not to get them to put on a suit or stop cutting their hair. My mission objective is to love the world as Jesus did - unconditional love for every person there ever was or will be. Loving the world is not an abstract idea - the world is the janitor who empties my trash twice a day who I treat as a human being and I speak to with just as much respect as I do my pastor. Telling my office-mate, "hey, we prayed for your mother-in-law last night at church. let me know if I can help you or your family."

I need to bring energy, confidence, and boldness with my love for the world. "Be strong in the Lord and in the power of His might" (Ephesians 6:10). So, here's where I digress...

On the album "The Battle of Los Angeles" the band Rage Against the Machine has a song called "Guerrilla Radio." Do not go looking for it - it is rife with profanity. The content is extremely leftist, anti-establishment, and militant. But, they make some valid points - I am inspired, for whatever reason, by this song. What they do is Guerrilla Music - Guerrilla Radio. What I do is Guerrilla Ministry, Guerrilla Love.

I'm not going to holler at the drug addict about how he's going to burn if he doesn't stop. I'm going to speak to him with love and tell him how much I'm going to love him whether he stops or not. How we are in the same boat - I sin every single day and his sin is no greater than mine. Our only difference is that I am written in the Lamb's Book of Life - that I have been baptized in the most precious name ever spoken and I have been filled with His Spirit. And when I say that, it's not with a boasting or place of pride - it comes from a place of compassion and longing.

Guerrilla ministry is about changing our tactics, breaking the mold, and being both vintage - following the examples of Jesus and His apostles, the guys that got to hang out with Jesus daily - and yet still be relevant to this lost and misdirected world. My mission is not to tell people they're going to hell - I'm not that presumptuous or prideful. My mission is to love that hell - those earthly, worldly influences right out of them.

Rage says it about 3/4 of the way through the song, "It has to start somewhere, it has to start sometime. What better place than here? What better time than now?" They got it right. Stop making excuses - go out into the world with the love of God, His Spirit overflowing your heart, spread His message of love, joy, compassion, healing, and peace. That is my daily mission. My wife told me a few weeks ago as I was out the door to work, "Go and be a blessing to someone today." I want to come home to her and say, "Mission Accomplished."

Last note - Rage finishes "Guerrilla Radio" with six words repeated a dozen or so times, "All hell can't stop us now." Well, Zach de la Rocha really just kinda screams them into the mic. He's right though, you know. Not just the content of the words, but the energy as well. And I'm ready - at least I like to think I am. Ship me off, I want to be at the front lines. Give me some platoon-mates who fight with me, who watch my back and I theirs, and are willing to go walking right out into the world, screaming at the tops of their lungs...

ALL HELL CAN'T STOP US NOW!

The Gospel According to Bond....James Bond

When I was a kid growing-up, my idols were GI Joe and the A-Team. Clive Cussler's Dirk Pitt and I spent tens of hours together just chillaxin and comparing cool notes. Luke Skywalker was destroying Death Stars for the second time and saving Ewoks by the thousands. But I am forced to admit, that James Bond holds a special place in my heart.

Unfortunately my first James Bond was Roger Moore, but I quickly converted to Sean Connery. Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan, and Daniel Craig - I dig you all, but me and Sean...we're tight. I mean, this dude hung out with chicks with names like Honey Ryder, Plenty O'Toole, and Pussy Galore. He had the fly clothes, mad license-to-kill skills, cars, gadgets, the list goes on and on.

What better role model for the young American male? Bond is intelligent, confident, cultured, and let's face it - he is really good at ordering a martini. Resilient, self-reliant, tender with the ladies (I can't recall him getting into one argument about who forgot to put out the garbage or didn't get the sour cream that was ON THE LIST) - James Bond is the epitome of what a man should be.

This is going to be a shocking revelation - prepare yourself - SPOILER ALERT! - James Bond is fiction. Goldfinger is NOT a documentary. No one ever really named their baby girl Pussy Galore.

Since childhood I have measured myself against unreal, inhuman standards. And while James may be really cool and have loads of brains - I never recall seeing him pray or ask God for guidance. Even in certain death situations, where I have to think that 99% of all humanity would find religion, James relies on himself alone.

And yet this mindset is in almost direct opposition to my Christian spirituality. It is only through God's mercy and His great sacrifice that I am saved. I need God. I need Christ's sacrifice. I would be lost without the Holy Spirit as Helper and Comforter.

It is prideful arrogance to believe that we do not need God in our lives. And yet I feel that God endows us with gifts that should be used for a purpose. My question becomes: for whose purpose am I using my gifts? Mine or God's? And how can or will I know the difference? I don't know the answers.

I do know that I cannot make it on my own. I can say that it is not weakness to admit that I need God, but I cannot say that I know that it's not. My James Bond upbringing tells me that to admit that I need God equates to weakness. If James is the epitome of a man's man and he doesn't have a need for God, what does that make me, a man who does have a need for God?

Our popular culture teaches and preaches the Gospel According to James Bond. My faith and spirituality follows a more traditional Gospel. I feel that there are places where my two "Gospels" touch at a few select points, but they are far from synoptic - they are divergent.

I feel like James Bond has a leg up in the marketing department. He's got major studio backing and these days, some truly amazing CGI. Jesus had no need of CGI, for He was the real deal. Yep, there's no Halle Berry, Megan Fox, or even Ursula Andress in the Gospel According to Luke. There's no Optimus Prime, Neo, or Storm Shadow in the Gospel According to Mark.

It's a shame that there is even such a competition for our attentions, but we are carnal, of flesh and blood, and carnally minded. As such, we are drawn to that which satisfies the flesh. James Bond is flesh. What strikes me now is the method in which Bond is continually re-incarnated. While of flesh, he has none of the drawbacks. Ageless, no emergency gall bladder surgery, no love handles to fight - I still want to be James Bond.

I turned 33 this year. I'm pretty sure James didn't age much past that. For me it's a matter of perspective now. I may call James for a chat from time to time. Heck, he may even visit for a few days. But in reality, the place where I live, breathe, work, love my wife, and spoil my daughters....in that place - I don't want to be James Bond. They don't need James. They need Bryan - a flawed and fragile human. And Bryan, as self-reliant, resilient, and superfly TNT as I may want to be - I submit myself to a higher power, a God worthy of my highest praise. And I'm pretty sure that that is how He wants it to be.

To Dance or Not to Dance, That is the Question

As the cliche GUY that I am...I don't dance. It's probably better for the physical safety of those in my general vicinity as well as the spiritual and emotional well-being of those within line-of-sight.

Tracy came to learn very early on in our courtship that there actually are times when I will dance. Not at all at the Euro-trash club we went to that played techno-rave music for 4 hours while I just hung back and chilled. But rather with the rest of the mainstream children of the 90's at Retroactive at the Varisty several weeks later belting out every word to "Baby Got Back" with bold confidence (she was not impressed...but she does dig my ability to "Footloose"). :-)

So when it comes to a church or church event that encourages dance, I admit I was both skeptical and taken aback. Yet Biblicly there are examples of dancing and shouting that pleased God. So, it took me a bit to get into the groove, but as I told my pastor a few weeks ago, if I can hoot, hollar, and dance for Skid Row, I should certainly be able to rock out for Jesus.

My four year old, Isabella, has been in dance class for two years. She loves it. The ballet outfits, the whole Princess deal, the recital. I should have known something was afoot when, as a two year old, she was dancing to Abba's "Waterloo" in Dillard's.

She dances at home to anything on the radio, to closing credits of Pixar films; she does this wriggling, shoulder-shaking move while strapped into her car seat. I used to sing "Maniac" before bedtime stories and she did this whole running in place move.

It makes me laugh and smile to see her giving it her all. I get so much pleasure to see her at her dance recital (there's some cost justification there as well). Dance recitals are such a family affair - her last one was at the P-Mac on LSU's campus. Wow, so many people enjoying seeing their daughter, sister, niece, cousin, or grand-daughter dancing.

So now here comes my deep thought for the day...

If I, a mortal man, can get this much pleasure out of my own child dancing, how much more pleasure must God get from seeing His children dancing for Him? He gave us the music - just as I turn on the television or radio or sing for my own child. He blessed so many people with so many different forms of music - something for everyone. Maybe He laughs, a deep belly kind of laugh, and shakes his head with tears of joy in His eyes to see His children laughing and enjoying themselves, shouting and dancing, proclaiming joy and celebrating life. I like to think that He does.

I hear His words in my heart, stirring in my soul, the same words that I spoke to my own daughter only a few nights ago, "Come now, child, give us a dance."