Subverting the Culture

"Are these people right? Is there way of life in no danger from us? Is what we say about God and his ways among us not real in the way that Chevrolets and basketball teams and fresh garden spinach are real? Many pastors, realizing the opinion polls overwhelmingly repudiate their self-concept, submit to the cultural verdict and slip into the role of chaplain to the culture. It is easy to do. But some pastors do not; they become subversives to the culture."

--Eugene Peterson, The Contemplative Pastor, pg. 30 (emphasis added)

I stopped in the middle of my exegesis for this weekend's sermon to post. The idea just hit me like a bolt from the blue and this passage from The Contemplative Pastor came to mind. Allow me to re-trace my thought pattern and explain.

I'm sitting in my military office with Greek books strewn about me. I am preaching this weekend and I'm behind in my preparation. I still translate the text that I'm preaching from the Greek text, in part, to keep grounded to the Word and, in part, as a justification to myself, a testament to me that my B.A. in Theological Languages isn't totally useless. As I sit here, I feel a little bit guilty about it. "This is not busy," I say to myself. "This is not crucial to your position. There are few other officers in the Army who would deem this as an efficient use of time. How many other chaplains are doing this right now?" The voice of the Tempter sounds just like me. But he slips up with that last question.

How many other chaplains ARE doing this? Heck, how many other pastors are doing this? Or, as Peterson says above, have they become "chaplains to the culture" bending their expectations, duties, and their very thoughts to the culture in which they live? Are they so busy making Jesus into a life-enhancing coach that they forget that He was a couter-culture revolutionary who talked about being in the temple to be about His Father's business, destroying the temple, the armies of His Father, and the dawning of a new Kingdom.

Yesterday I sort of lost my temper with my brigade chaplain as he called me for my "numbers." How many people did I counsel? What were their issues? What programs do I have coming up? Quantify. Quantify. Quantify. The things that I had done so far this week were unquantifable. I had coffee with a brother in the ministry and we talked about Peterson's book, the Lord's Prayer, and subverting the culture. I spent two days teaching suicide intervention methods to sergeants and company commanders so that they will know how to engage someone who's struggling. Now I am preparing for preaching (and posting on my blog). These things look horrible on a "Religious Support Activities" report. But, to my soul, they are priceless and, without them, I have nothing to give the dozens of people who come to me for help.

My job description starts with, "Serve as pastor and chaplain to..." whatever kind of unit I am in. I'm taking that seriously and doing what needs to be done...no matter how it looks on a report.

Missing My Mistress

Exactly four months ago, I left my mistress and returned to my wife. While I was in Iraq, I had a relationship. It started innocently enough with just short meetings maybe once or twice a week but neither of us could know how we would feel about each other. Eventually, we saw each other more and more and for longer and longer times. The next thing I knew, I was seeing my mistress each and every day. I was rearranging my schedule and shunning my friends just to spend more and more time with my mistress.

But all of that changed when I got back to the States. I left her in Iraq and haven't really looked back.

Before some you gather the torches and pitchforks, let me name my mistress: her name is running and I'm starting to miss her.

In the desert, a person HAS to find something to fill the time. I didn't have any idea about how much time I spent with my wife, with friends, surfing the internet, watching youtube, and all the rest of the things that I just did. Most of those things were gone and I needed something. So, I got back into running and I got into it HARD.

Then, miraculous things started to happen. I had more energy. I lost weight. I got faster. I felt better physically, mentally...maybe even spiritually. My mental self-image improved. I started to dream and plan and think positively about myself and my future. "She" awakened in me a lot of things that I left far behind me.

But I left her in the desert. She got replaced with beer, fast food, and sleeping in with my wife. Time is now spent trying to "catch up" on the 15 months of pop-culture and general American life that I have missed. As a more experienced chaplain pointed out, that's never going to happen. In some respects, those 15 months are a void and an empty spot that will never be filled...ever.

And now I'm missing her. Maybe I'll look for her again. I hope my wife doesn't mind.

Is Today Really THAT Important?

I use igoogle.com as a personal homepage and as a place for headline feeds from various news services. I get Top Stories from AP, Reuters, Fox News, and CNN. Attached is a screenshot from CNN. These are the top feeds that they chose to send to the world today.

Now, I fully understand that today is an historic day. We are inaugurating the 44th President in our country's history. This President happens to be the first African-American elected to the post in history of our country, which is a momentous occasion given some of issues that we have had to grow through.

But c'mon! If a person read/watched/listened to ONLY CNN, they would think that this was the only thing going on today; that the rest of the world was on hold while we inaugurated our new President. Are what D.C. tattoo parlors offering really more important than the developments between Fiat and Chrysler? Is it really more important than Russia returning natural gas spplies to Europe? Certainly the mayor of Portland, Oregon is breathing a sigh of relief that his pecadillos will be overshadowed by today's events.

Forgive me for straying from spiritual matters but perhaps this fits with the theme anyway. Are we looking to the Office of the President of the United States of America for the solution to so many of our problems when we should be looking to One higher than him?

Stuck in the "Ustacoulds"

SPC T, my chaplain assistant while I was deployed, is from Louisana and, therefore, has a very colorful vocabulary.  One of the great words he would use repeatedly was: ustacould.  It is used thusly, "I ustacould run really good but now I'm out of shape."  Like I said, colorful.

I've been stuck in the "ustacoulds" lately.  This morning I went to the gym for a 20 minute run and 400m swim, times and distances that wouldn't have bothered me in the least three months ago.  This morning they just about killed as I struggled through each one.

And it's not just about working out.  I'm stuck in my "ustacoulds" about a lot of things.  I ustacould hold my temper better.  I ustacould think about God more.  I ustacould pray better.  I ustacould serve my wife better.  I ustacould a lot things before my deployment.  And that's the frustrating part.

Just like with my physical training, I'm having to start over again in a lot of things.  One of the first arguments that my wife and I had when I first got back was about find a water glass. "They're where they always were," she said.  To which I responded, "I don't remember where that is."  I ustacould get it on my own.  Now I need a little help.

Don't we all get stuck in the glory days of the ustacoulds, though?  I'm becoming addicted to Facebook and seeing old photos of myself from high school and college just seem to bring back the ustacoulds.  Seeing what I looked like and what I used to be able to do and what I used to look like just seems to convict and frustrate me.  What happened to me?  In my mind, I can still do all the things I ustacould but the fact is that I really can't.

The key is starting where I am.  This takes a whole lot of honesty and grace.  Honesty to look at myself accurately in the mirror with all my wrinkles, blemishes, and scars.  And grace to realize that none of these things can keep me from God and His forgiveness and His plan for my life.

This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.

Spirituality and Creativity

"Q: You've written that everyone is born to live creatively, but many of us fail to do so.  Why is that?

A:  Largely because we are lazy.  Creativity is difficult.  When you are being creative, you're living by faith.  You don't know what's next because the created, by definition, is what's never been before.  So you're living at the edge of something in which your not very confident.  You might fail; in fact, you almost certainly will fail a good part of the time.  All the creative persons I know throw away most of the stuff they do."

(Taken from The Contemplative Pastor by Rev. Eugene H. Peterson, pg. 6-7, emphasis added)

I've tried three times to expound and explain this quote from Peterson and three times I've deleted the whole post.  Suffice it to say, this blog and my futile attempts at verbal creativity, are my way of maintaining my spiritual life.  The problem is that I post the bad stuff as well as the good.  The good thing is that the Internet is so vast, few people will read this anyway.

The catharsis is in the process of the writing, not the product that ends up in the ether.  If you, gentle reader, will keep that in mind then I will do my best to do the same.

Excelsior!

Running Away To What?

"Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh." (Genesis 2:25, ESV)

Being back with trainees, it's back to usual with problems. I believe that many of the problems these kids make is related to leaving home for the first time. Drill Sergeants will start yelling at these kids from the very moment they step off the bus and will continue until they Pass In Review on graduation day. For most, this is the first step of independence they have ever taken in their lives. These men have finally left their father and mother.

In Genesis 2, there's a place to run to: "...and hold fast to his wife..." Is it too far of a stretch to say that God's design is for us to run from the caring relationship of our parents' homes in order to establish a caring relationship in our own home? Maybe. But I think this is part and parcel with what these young men are going through.

In my own experience, it was one thing to run from home to Concordia University in River Forest, Illinois, which was a caring Christian community that understood that I was going to need care and support in this transitional time. It's a whole other thing to run into an institution like the Army, where Soldiers are purposefully stripped of their identity, have their names replaced with a roster number, and are hauled around in vehicles called, "cattle cars." I can understand the administrative necessity of these things but I wonder about their emotional and mental impacts.

Sadly, I'm one man fighting against an institutional standard that has been around for years. The most impact I can make is on each individual that comes through my door.

Apologies to those who have been checking in on me. I haven't been checking in on my blog. I'm having a harder time coming home than I thought I would. As a chaplain, I've given a lot of briefs about what to expect at homecoming and some of the things to watch out for. Lo and behold, some of it has happened to me.

I haven't done any significant posting because I'm still trying to get used to being home again. The changes of the last three months have been astronomical. 5 days after I got off the plane, our Battalion Commander switches out and the new guy wants to go Mach 5 right away. Meanwhile, I'm trying to get ready to transition out of my battalion to a new one as well as look forward to transitioning out of the Army. All this in the midst of learning how to live in a three-bedroom apartment with another person and dogs in a place where my laundry isn't done for me and I have to cook my own food. The last part is a joy to try to re-learn but it's still stressful.

That coupled with what I did in Iraq has finally caught up with me. I didn't want to say anything at the time for security reasons but a big part of my job was performing Ramp Ceremonies. Each one was a mini-funeral on the ramp of a C-130 or C-17 for a fellow Soldier who died away from friends and family. Some were due to enemy attacks and others were fluke happenings, like the 56-year-old Army Reserve Soldier who had a heart attack while doing PT. I did 90 of them over 15 months and 60 in the first six months. I thought I was strong enough to handle it, I'm a chaplain for crying out loud, but the last three months have told me otherwise. Having seen so much death, I'm wrestling with a lot of survivor's guilt. Why them and not me? (Not that I want to die but some of these could have been me.)

I'm still not "okay" but I'm getting there. I'm getting help and doing what I can. Getting back into the swing of things triathlon-wise and posting-wise is part of that.

Posting this is part of that. I've wanted to put this up for a long time but I haven't because I'm afraid that people will treat me differently. The reality is that I'm not the only one who struggles with things like this; there are countless other vets who have done more than I have and seen more than I've seen and hurt more than I'm hurting. I'm just willing to talk about it. I'm not a victim or permanently damaged. I've got the mental/ emotional version of a sprained ankle or maybe a broken arm. With some treatment and rehab, I'll be back to my old self.

Today is the first day of that process.