The Hypocrisy

In the past few months an increasingly large amount of dirt has been revealed about the sexual assaults committed by singer Michael Taitt over the course of 20 years or more, particularly when he was the lead singer of the Newsboys (which he stepped down from just as the allegations started appearing). The most full accounts of these incidents have been reported at the Roys Report. From the way in which the people who were his victims or those who held the victims' confidence, it sounds like this was an "open secret" that many people near Taitt knew about, but it was kept from the public.

And that's... depressingly familiar. So often when a Christian leader of any type (singer, pastor, etc.) has their scandals made public, we find out there was some kind of cover-up going on. Sometimes the victims themselves don't want the incidents to be made public or the leader's entourage/ministry board work hard to keep the allegations from coming to light for fear of what it would do to the leader's ministry; despite the obvious hypocrisy at play, it's seen as better to accept and conceal the leader's sins rather than confess their sins and repent.

It reminded me of Michael English. Back when I was obsessed with Christian music, watching Christian music videos nearly all day long (back when there was the 24-hour Christian 'Z' music channel) and reading every magazine with at the very least a column on the subject, I absorbed a lot in those pre-internet days. Yet I didn't know what went on to Michael English; for a while, he was a really big rising name in Christian music, his video played all the time, he won four Dove Awards, then he disappeared in 1994.

I didn't find out what had happened to him until he popped up on an episode of Entertainment Tonight in 1996; while promoting his new career as a "secular" music artist, ET went over his past and I learned for the first time that in 1994 - just a week after he won all those Dove Awards - he returned the awards and revealed he'd been having an extra-marital affair.

What amazed me was that it was like a different kind of cover-up took effect; he was basically erased from Christian music. I didn't read so much as an angry editorial denouncing him (though I'm certain many must have been written at the time). Instead, his music and videos were taken out of circulation and no one talked about him.

All of which makes me think, we Christians are the worst at talking about sin. We might be willing to concede that, "oh, yeah, we're all sinners." But if you're a sinner - and a very public figure in the church - then your choice seems to either take the English path-- be "ghosted" by your fellow Christians -- or take the Taitt path-- widen the circle of sinners by enlisting conspirators to cover-up for you until it's inevitably made public.

Maybe if we didn't "ghost" people who own up publicly about their sins, we wouldn't think it necessary to form vast conspiracies to "protect" the public from learning about popular people's frailties. But as it is, these cover-ups do real harm to the mission of the church by taking one man's sin and expanding it to corporate size. To an outsider, it must seem that we're all hypocrites who claim to be sinless, yet full of leaders who are constantly being exposed as having committed acts that anyone else would be prosecuted for.

Sacrificial Love

Recently my pastor David delivered a sermon where he reflected on what makes romance stories popular. One of the conclusions he drew was:

They're wonderful stories because they tell us something of the truth of love. Somebody is coming to help you; somebody is coming to hold you and to rescue you. Regardless of your past, they will love you. And that is a beautiful thing about these stories. But the problem of the modern romantic comedy is that something else seeps into it. And that's that the story of romance is that you are good and valuable as you are now. You are loved. And this is the depth and the breadth of which I'm willing to go to declare that to you, to state your value to you. But the modern romantic comedy sometimes has this message steep in that although you are good enough now, you never have to change. You're perfect as you are. But the true gospel message, Jesus looks at you and says, "You are great and you are wonderful and you are worth it in this moment. You are valuable and I'm willing to go to these depths and lengths for you as you are now." But the love story of Christ continues on because he says, "I will continue to redeem you. I will continue to save you from the mess and the mire and the muck that you're in. And I will take you to that place where you will shine.

Thinking about this, I'm interested in analyzing a particular type of romantic narrative. Frequently in romantic fiction, there's a high value placed on sacrifice. Often there's some sort of barrier between two lovers - perhaps their physical location, their careers - and one must sacrifice from that part of their lives (relocate to where their lover resides, quit their job) in order for them to be together.

I can think of a few love stories that concern sacrifice; sometimes it's a very tragic sacrifice, as in the fiction of Erich Maria Remarque; his novel Three Comrades (1936) was mostly concerned with two young lovers (Robert and Patricia) against the backdrop of a changing Germany as the Nazis rose to power. The rise of fascism is definitely not an encouraging backdrop for a romance and, indeed, Three Comrades ends tragically as Patricia dies just as the Nazis are coming into power. But it's the way Patricia dies that's so striking: suffering from a lung hemorrhage, she sees Robert depleting all of his meager funds to help prolong her life. Seeing her precarious health as a burden upon Robert and doubting that she has much hope of recovery, she hastens her demise for Robert's sake.

You can debate whether her sacrifice was the best course of action, but it is absolutely a depiction of sacrificial love, definitely on the most extreme end of that scale compared to lovers who sacrifice a job or an existing relationship.

I think I respond strongly to Three Comrades because - like my pastor - I see something in romantic fiction that points to Jesus and his love. And by "romantic," I think I can expand that to the classical definition of romance (as a Portuguese speaker, I'm amused that the Portuguese still use the traditional 'romance' when referring to fictions of all types). When a character in a war story gives up his life to save one of his buddies, what can that be but sacrificial love?

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." (John 15:13) I do believe that and I'm certain the reason a story like Three Comrades - or other fiction by Remarque such as the Spark of Life (1952) - elicit such a strong emotional reaction from me because they're about people sacrificing their lives for the sake of others (in the case of the Spark of Life, it's a concentration camp prisoner who gives his life for his fellow prisoners).

As a Christian, I don't have to look too hard to find my beliefs this reflected in art, but I think it's worthwhile to draw attention to it. I'd like to think this might be true for much of what we like in fiction-- we like them because they assure us about things we believe to be true.

"Even if..." Rend Collective thoughts

Over a week ago, I went to see a live concert by the band Rend Collective.

In my teenage years I was fascinated by what was then called "Contemporary Christian Music." Particularly from the 1980s-90s there was effort to create a kind of Christian alternative to popular 'secular' music. I gradually lost interest in CCM after high school and by the early 21st century, CCM slowly faded away.

Of course, it faded away because something else had taken its place; the new vogue was for Christian musicians to create worship songs that could be replicated in churches worldwide, rather than supporting a parallel entertainment industry.

I came to enjoy the new wave of Christian worship songs, but I thought the days of me purchasing Christian song albums was well in the past. I felt the new songs were suitable for church worship but weren't the sort of thing I would listen to around the house.

Enter Rend Collective, an Irish worship band who fell neatly into the new wave of worship. My then-worship leader Rob brought them into my home church, principally through the song "My Lighthouse." That song on its own won me over-- it's a happy, toe-tapping ditty. I wound up getting into the band's albums largely on the strength of that tune (I chose it as the theme song of the Cursillo weekend I led).

But while I love the high-energy found in many of their songs, the concert helped me articulate what I really enjoy about Rend Collective - and what makes them different from the CCM of my teen years - is that they're real. At the concert, lead performer Chris Llewellyn noted that the Psalms found in the Bible aren't simply songs of joy - many of them are songs of lament and we need to have a place for lament in our contemporary worship.

The aforementioned Rob seemed to agree with that; Rend Collective's song "Weep with Me" - a melancholy song of lament - became a song he frequently performed at our church (and I think Rob performed it at every funeral I attended after he added it to his repertoire). Songs like "Weep with Me" give us a place to express our grief and sadness. That's contrary to so much of the old CCM, which didn't want to act as though tough times existed - if they did, they were all in the past, not in the present or the future.

And Llewellyn took time to talk about his own mental health struggles with depression. Given that the band was performing in an Alliance church - and among all churches, the Evangelicals are most offended by Christians talking about mental health - that was bold of him. The band is real about the troubles that exist in life, the troubles they themselves experience.

Recently, my favourite song of theirs has been "Hallelujah Anyway." Rend Collective performed it at the concert that night; I performed it myself last weekend. What draws me to the song is that it's a song about going through problems yet remaining optimistic. Maybe it's a small thing, but being able to sing lyrics like "Even if my daylight never dawns; even if my breakthrough never comes; even if I'll fight to bring you praise" has a different kind of power than the usual triumphalism I find in Christian worship.

So yeah, I have a lot of time for Rend Collective.

"Are the readers still with us?" The Mythmakers review

Last years Abrams published the Mythmakers, a graphic novel by John Hendrix. It's the story of C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien's friendship and focuses in primarily on those years they spent sharing ideas and writing their stories together - but with biographical details stretching across both men's lives (and beyond). Some passages are told through text but most of the book is a proper graphic novel. Dramatic license is employed in recounting moments from both men's lives, but Hendrix used direct quotes where possible.

What's unusual about this book is that it's introduced by a lion and a wizard, who guide the audience through the book's narrative. At first it seemed a bit patronizing to me to have these fictional characters talking through Lewis and Tolkien's lives - it left me wondering if the book was meant for younger readers. Still, the lion and the wizard are deployed to discuss ideas outside the scope of Lewis and Tolkien's lives, especially for discussions about how to define a myth and where the two men's works fit in the academic definitions of myth. There's also a deeply personal reason why Hendrix uses these two characters, which is not revealed until the end of the book.

I only learned of the Mythmakers because it was being promoted in Christian circles as a very good book - it's rare that I see Christians promoting a graphic novel, much less one that was published for the general market, not the Christian bookstore speciality market. Hendrix discusses his own faith in the book's back matter and how that influenced his depiction of Lewis and Tolkien's friendship. I won't lie, Hendrix touched my heart.

I think all fans of Lewis and Tolkien feel as Hendrix does - that the loosening of their bond is a tragedy. And that's ultimately what the Mythmakers is walking through - it's the story of how a friendship was made, how that friendship fell apart and how to draw a happy conclusion despite that. This was a fine read and I'm very happy I read it.

Upcoming Book Event

My wife and I have decided to attend the Mobilizing Medical Missions conference (M3) in Houston, Texas, happening February 16-17. My Uncle Steve is this year's keynote speaker and we'll be giving away copies of my book the Benefit of Steel to conference attendees. This will be the first time he and I will be signing the English-version together - previously our only joint signing was for the Portuguese edition!

More about M3 on their website.

Brief essay: Reasonable Jesus

I was inspired to write this by a recent sermon I heard in which the pastor suggested that Jesus' miracles were not "reasonable." I started thinking about what it would mean to have a "reasonable" version of Jesus.

One of the definitions of "reasonable" is to be "moderate, fair." So how would a "reasonable" Jesus appear (assuming that he was still the son of God and therefore a supernatural being capable of miracles)?

I see "Reasonable Jesus" as being one who would uphold the law and expectations, not one to court controversy. If Reasonable Jesus were asked to comment on divorce he'd ask them what Moses commanded them (as in Mark 10:1-10) but simply tell his audience to obey that law. He'd agree that taxes should be paid even though no one really liked paying taxes (Matthew 22:15-22). If a woman who committed adultery were brought before him (John 8:1-11) he'd consider stoning to be the acceptable form of punishment. This would be a version of Jesus who would read from Isaiah but choose not to claim he had fulfilled his words before his audience (Luke 4:14-30).

Still, this version of Jesus would have supernatural power. If 5 thousand hungry people were before him, he wouldn't hesitate to use this power to feed them. But I think instead of multiplying a single meal into sufficient food for the entire assembly, he'd perhaps magically supply sufficient money for everyone to go buy their own food. And once word got out that he had a bottomless supply of money he'd be certain to win followers!

But although this silly version of Jesus I'm describing could still find followers by his very nature he wouldn't attract controversy. This is not someone who would unnerve the religious establishment by speaking into the heart of the law in a way they didn't anticipate - Reasonable Jesus wouldn't say anything out of line from the establishment. This is not someone whose movement would be considered a potential threat to the authority of the Roman occupation. He would never inspire a movement to have him crucified.

And of course, you know all of this. We know that the things Jesus said did upset the leaders and the establishment. We know he even upset the man in the street by the number of times people tried to have him killed. He cautioned his disciples, "Do you think I came to bring peace on earth? No, I tell you, but division." (Luke 12:51)

But I think given enough passage of time and familiarity, what once seemed unreasonable can become reasonable. Those of us with many years in the church aren't shocked when we hear Jesus say things that were outrageous in their original context. We don't dwell in the same time and place as his original audience - we are all-too-aware that we are outside of the original context in which those words were spoken. Heck, even outside of the church, Jesus' principle of "the Golden Rule" (Matthew 7:12) is a widely-admired belief that people of other faiths or of no faith background consider a sound - reasonable - teaching.

I think our danger is that we can read Jesus' words and simply nod along thinking, "yes, that's reasonable." We only become flummoxed when Jesus suggests following him brings on challenges such as:

"If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me." (Matthew 19:21)

Well, that sounds very hard and we're not accustomed to being challenged by anything said by Jesus in scripture, so we will ourselves to sidestep or minimize it. We know the Jesus of the Bible is not the "Reasonable Jesus" I invented; but I think sometimes we'd rather have a Reasonable Jesus who doesn't make great demands on us and whose supernatural power is held back. I'm sure I've made that mistake many times. So for me, as I attempt to make sense of the world and to recognize how Jesus is working today - the challenge to me is to not expect everything to be reasonable.

Thoughts about My Pastor

Today was the final day my pastor Ven. Stephen Hambidge served as celebrant at Holy Trinity Anglican Church, Calgary. He has been the celebrant there for 29 years and has been my pastor for about 20 years.

Initially I didn't have much interest in Holy Trinity; the church had a full band that played contemporary Christian worship music, primarily rock. I had grown up with exposure to both classic hymns and contemporary music in my family church and I enjoyed both, but in my 20s I felt more comfortable with the hymns - the music was easy to follow, the lyrics were all in the hymnal, you seldom had to learn anything new.

But there's more to any church than just the music that's played. The music made the strongest impression on me when I first visited the church; I only made occasional visits to the parish because it was my sister's parish and she had offered to bring me with her once per month.

In time I was able to adapt to the choices in music, but the reason I continued to accept rides to Holy Trinity from my sister was that I had come to enjoy the sermons Stephen was preaching. I don't think I had been getting a lot from the sermons in what was my home church at that time - it was all very heady and theoretical. Stephen was quite down-to-Earth and practical. At the time he would print out a sheet for sermon notes using a fill-in-the-blank format that encouraged the congregation to pay attention to what he was teaching so that they would write out the key points of his sermon.

In time the fill-in-the-blank aspect went away - heck, eventually the sermon notes and even the physical bulletins went away - but Stephen remained consistent in the way he taught the Bible at Holy Trinity. He always took pains to explain the context behind the scriptures heard in the service, rather than using scripture in isolation. And he would always challenge the congregation to see ourselves somewhere in the readings we had heard, then apply it somehow into our lives. I was impressed that he remained so consistent, so grounded and that he saw the purpose of his sermon as a means to inspire the congregation into action, not remain passive listeners.

Stephen and I are both introverts so despite almost 20 years of his pastoring I don't have many personal stories about him - he was guest at my house twice, I was a guest at his only once; our conversations have often been perfunctory and brief. The two trips I made to Sierra Leone (in 2012 and 2014) alongside Stephen are probably responsible for more closeness between the two of us than anything else in the last 2 decades. To some extent, I wanted to remain a little apart from him - I think I feared that a little too much familiarity would make it harder to adopt the lessons from his sermons.

Stephen made the phrase "One more person, one more step" a core teaching and practice in our congregation and in whatever manner the parish adapts in the future under new leadership, I hope that remains our ideal - to be always looking out for the needs of people beyond our building, to be present and active in the world around us. I've enjoyed having him as my teacher but I'm excited for our future.

Follow my Church’s Livestream Worship!

At the time if posting, this is a livestream of my church, where I'm performing on worship...

Old-Time Radio Christmas, 5 of 5: The Man at the Gate of the World

Welcome to the final installment of my five-part look at extra-Biblical Christmas stories in old-time radio! I have a real odd duck for you this time: it's Mr. President and the story "The Man at the Gate of the World." The story in question was written by W. E. Cule and first published in 1929.

Mr. President is a real odd duck; it starred Edward Arnold, known to be one of the more conservative Hollywood actors. Each week in the series he would portray a different President of the USA, referred to in the script only as "Mr. President" until the close of the play. The concept was an interesting one - it challenged listeners to guess which President was the week's protagonist.

Of course by its nature, Mr. President had a very shallow well to draw from - there simply weren't that many Presidents (or interesting stories about them). Despite this, the series ran from 1947-1953. To pad out the series, each Christmas Arnold would feature a non-presidential story - his adaptation of "The Man at the Gate of the World."

In the story Arnold portrayed Caspar the Persian, one of the fabled Three Wise Men (which means this story is more closely connected to Epiphany than Christmas but we'll let it slide). The name "Caspar" has a long tradition in the church but it's not from the Bible - none of the three wise men received names there. Caspar returns to Bethlehem just after the slaughter of the innocent children there. Incorrectly believing the Christ chid he visited is dead, Caspar mourns him. Eventually he learns Christ evaded the slaughter but is once again too late, hearing of his crucifixion. Caspar makes his home in Damascus and then, one day, in walks Judas Iscariot...

Now, hold on... Judas hung himself after the crucifixion, right? Well, not in this story - here, Judas explains that story was told by the other Disciples. Caspar's encounter with Judas sets in motion the meaning of the story --- forgiveness.

Again, this is an odd duck. Not the place you'd expect to hear a quasi-Biblical story. But Arnold was a very fine performer and acquitted himself well. You can hear the 1949 version of his performance here.

Merry Christmas to all!

Old-Time Radio Christmas, 4 of 5: The Boy Who Sang for the King

Welcome back to my five-part series on quasi-Biblical Christmas programs heard in old-time radio. After three outings by author Charles Tazewell, it's time for another author: Frank Pachling. Pachling wrote the story "The Boy Who Sang for the King," which was heard during an episode of A Day in the Life of Dennis Day on December 25, 1946. You might recall that's the same day Bing Crosby read "the Small One." These were clearly the salad days for quasi-Biblical Christmas stories!

A Day in the Life of Dennis Day is something of a spin-off from the Jack Benny Program. Supposedly it was about what Dennis was up to while not singing for Mr. Benny. Really, it was its own show; it was made by many of the people who worked on the sitcom radio program the Life of Riley; if you like the Life of Riley you might like this program too (you'll certainly hear a lot of familiar voices and product jingles).

Like the story "the Lullaby of Christmas," this one concerns a boy who visits the newborn Christ child. In this instance, it's a boy who is determined to one day sing for a king; in Bethlehem, his hope is granted.

You can hear the episode of a Day in the Life of Dennis Day featuring "The Boy Who Sang for the King" at the Old-Time Radio Researchers' Library!

Old-Time Radio Christmas, 3 of 5: The Small One

Today's entry in quasi-Biblical old-time radio Christmas programs is the story "the Small One" by Charles Tazewell. It's probably the best-known story Tazewell ever wrote and he owes a lot to Mr. Bing Crosby, who presented the story as a Christmas special on his radio program. Bing went on to cut a record of his dramatic reading of the story and made reading it an annual radio tradition for some time.

The story concerns a small boy and a small donkey. The boy wants to spare the donkey's life by finding a new owner for the creature; he finally does so when the couple Mary and Joseph purchase him. I'm not sure where the tradition of Mary riding on a donkey to Bethlehem came from - it's not from the Bible. Not being Roman Catholic I do find it a little objectionable because Jesus himself rode a donkey into Jerusalem - it feels as though it's according Christ's divinity to Mary. Then again, it might be an innocuous piece of art, the animal chosen for its humility rather than any allusion to Palm Sunday.

You can hear Bing's original performance of "the Small One" on the December 25, 1946 broadcast of Philco Radio Time at the Old-Time Radio Researchers' Library!

Old-Time Radio Christmas, 2 of 5: The Lullaby of Christmas

For today's quasi-Biblical old-time radio Christmas show we turn again to radio author Charles Tazewell. This time it's "The Lullaby of Christmas." Like "the Littlest Angel," this show was rebroadcast on many occasions.

In this story the protagonist is again a child - a boy who cannot speak and suffers mockery at the hands of others. He ends up in Bethlehem at the time of Jesus' birth and receives a supernatural gift.

You can hear "the Lullaby of Christmas" at the Old-Time Radio Researchers' library here, as it was broadcast on December 13, 1950 as an episode of the Family Theater, narrated by Roddy McDowall.

Old-Time Radio Christmas, 1 of 5: The Littlest Angel

Merry Christmas! Earlier this year I ran a month-long series of posts in an old-time radio Halloween theme during October. I'm going to run a very brief one for this Christmas season. I'd like to examine an unusual sub-genre of old-time radio Christmas programs - the Nativity expansion story.

There are straight-faced adaptations of the Nativity, but it's a little more fascinating to discover the few programs which tell stories that were not actually Biblical. The very concept of a radio program hosting a "Christmas episode" was one that came about slowly; certainly in the early 1930s the cast would pause to say "Merry Christmas" when their program fell on the 24th or 25th, but even Jack Benny took some time to develop his annual Christmas shopping trips (not 'til the late 30s). Christmas-themed episodes truly came into vogue during World War II, probably because the absence of so many family members in the listening audience was a powerful emotion to tap into. When the war ended, the trend became, if anything, even grander; virtually every post-war radio program would deliver at least one Christmas episode during the season, even if the show were a detective program (Dragnet, Richard Diamond), a movie adaptation showcase (Lux Radio Theater) or western (Gunsmoke).

We'll begin with author Charles Tazewell, a name we'll be returning to a few times. Tazewell wrote for the radio but the tales I'm featuring were published later on as children' books. We'll start with one of his best-known tales, "The Littlest Angel." The first version was presented in 1940 but we don't have many of the early broadcasts. Perhaps the most amazing version to discover would be the 1945 version. It aired in the timeslot belonging to Inner Sanctum Mysteries and was directed by the show's director Himan Brown and sponsored by their sponsor, Lipton Tea. Other shows would air a Christmas tale in place of their usual fare regardless of the program's typical content - but one understands why they wouldn't want a charming kid-friendly Biblical story to open with the creaking door and a few puns by Mr. Host. Still, I really wish Brown had aired "the Littlest Angel" as an episode of Inner Sanctum Mysteries, the contrast would have been hilarious!

The story concerns the troubles of a child-angel who is homesick for his life on Earth - because like the majority of popular culture surrounding angels this story thinks angels were formerly human (the Bible is very clear that they're a different form of life from humans). With the birth of Jesus, the little angel brings a gift in the hopes of pleasing God.

You can hear a version of "The Littlest Angel" that aired on Family Theater on December 21, 1949 here! Loretta Young narrates the story; the last third of the show features a choir singing Christmas carols.

Strength Through Vulnerability in Angola

Here's a recording of a talk I gave this morning about my year in Angola and the friendships I built while I was there.

My Brothers Have a Podcast!

My brothers have a new podcast! You can see their first episode in YouTube form below on the subject of grace!

Deconstructing from a distance

Recently a friend of mine shared an article about the Christianity Today podcast series The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill. I had not heard of the podcast and just barely knew of Mars Hill -- all that I really knew amounted to, "that's a popular church in the USA, right?" I didn't know they had disbanded in 2014, much less any of the controversy surrounding the church.

The article fascinated me because the author had written about ideas the podcast provoked, primarily on the subject of legalism. I decided to listen to the entire podcast to hear it for myself and, not to be a spoilsport, but the podcast is not really about legalism. It comes up in the final episode, but it's only one of many facets which the podcast explores.

I listened to the entire podcast, fascinated to learn about this toxic side of Christianity. Many times I found myself thinking, "this doesn't sound like church - this sounds like a cult" - especially when stories of church members being threatened at having their dirty laundry aired in public. I've never really understood American Evangelicalism but this podcast gave me some helpful information.

My fear at the outset - knowing that this was the story of a toxic church that collapsed on itself - was that Christianity Today would try to make the story somehow neat and palatable. I do often find my fellow Christians are unwilling to really face something difficult or challenging in our faith without tying it up in a Calvinist ribbon that assures the listener that this problem isn't really a problem. There are plenty of passages in the Bible where good men of God simply lament; we should have a place for lament as well, and so I applaud this podcast for placing the focus on the lament. There is talk of what good the church accomplished, but it is not the subject of the podcast. As I learned, the church experienced plenty of laud and honour in its time - someone needed to try and make sense of what was done wrong. Kudos.

Many former members of the church who spoke on the podcast lost their faith as a result of what happened. In a discussion of how they were now deconstructing their beliefs, one commenter remarked that it's actually helpful for us to deconstruct our faith.

Having listened to the podcast, it makes me relieved that I come from the liturgical traditions. We're not perfect in the Anglican church, but our emphasis usually isn't on flashy messages delivered by charismatic figures. We work our way through the liturgy and we don't tend to place our pastors too far above us. I'm also fortunate in being a pastor's son in that I can separate my father as the head of my church from my father as the head of my family. I love and respect my Dad, but having lived in his house for 20 years I knew he wasn't perfect. A personal Christian faith become more approachable to me because I knew my Dad didn't have everything right. It sounds like a paradox, but it made faith accessible to me.

The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill probably isn't for everyone. The people on the podcast make themselves very vulnerable; there is disgusting audio of the church's pastor delivering deeply wrong theology; and it's very long - the last two episodes take 2.5 hours. I think it might be my new recommendation to Christians who want something to study through Lent - it is challenging in the best sense.

Advent meditation: Hope

A brief meditation on hope which I delivered this morning at my church

During these last eight months I’ve spent some time thinking about hope. Maybe this is a difficult time to be hopeful. Our days are growing shorter and darker and we know the darkest days yet to come. And although Calgary has its share of warm Chinook winds, it’s cold today and we know it will get colder. And although there is promising news about vaccines to combat COVID, we know it will be several more months before we see real change.

As I prepared this meditation I looked up famous quotations about hope and I was surprised to discover they weren’t all inspirational. Some famous sayings about hope were written by cynics, by people who did not believe in hope. I don’t know how a human being can survive without hope. When you’re hopeless, every day must be dark, every environment cold and every illness incurable.

But we come from a tradition steeped in hope. The prophets of the Old Testament lived in times of weak or corrupt leaders, civilization on the verge of collapse and worst of all, people turning their hearts from God. But the prophets boldly foretold the coming of a Messiah who would make things right. This hope was carried from prophet to prophet like a relay race until finally John the Baptist saw the beginning of Christ’s mission on Earth. Those prophets put their hope in God and God never fails.

And we today are not unlike the people awaiting their Messiah, for we are anticipating when Christ will come again. So I have hope. I hope that darkness will pass into light, cold thaw into warmth, sickness will yield to healing and hearts reconciled to God.

No shadow comes without the light making a way; no raging storm can ever defy one word of faith; my heart remains sure in the wind sure in the waves.

OTR Holiday Month Day 25: The Greatest Story Ever Told

Merry Christmas!

After World War II there was an increased focus on Christianity in US culture which spilled over on to the radio as Christian groups organized programming such as Family Theater and The Greatest Story Ever Told. The latter program began in 1947 and would retell stories from the Bible in the style of contemporary dramas. It was so popular that it became a book (a book based on a radio show based on the Bible, which is a book) and later on a film which wasn't too well-regarded.

The adaptation of the story of Christ's birth was told over several weeks on the program, so I've brought them all together here from archive.org. You can hear "And Her Name Was Mary" here, "Blessed Among Women" here, "Go and Be Counted" here, "No Room at the Inn" here and "Flight into Egypt" here.

I hope you're having a marvelous Christmas!

Live Like That

Yesterday I delivered a new sermon at my church, which can be listened to at this page. The gist of it is: I am now an associate with SIM Canada and will begin taking longer mission trips to Angola in the future.

As for the song I'm referencing, it's here:

Finding One's Meaning in the Video/Movie Guide

Before resources like the Internet Movie Database existed, your best hope for understanding the length, width, breadth and height of filmdom was through one of many video/movie guides. They were ubiquitous, not only on bookstore shelves but even convenience store racks. They tended to range about 1000 pages and were printed on cheap newsprint with easily-smudged black ink. Depending on the design, you could fit 8-10 films on a single page as they didn't offer complete cast lists and only the briefest of plot summaries. Critical commentary was frequently limited to the star rating chosen by the editors, but sometimes they would pause to note something particularly wonderful about a film. Better still, there were those terse put-downs of movies, a devastating slight against the film which could settle the picture's reputation in your mind with only a single line of text.

I loved those books.

We had a few video/movie guides as I was growing up. I'm not sure when I began taking an interest in them, but around the age of ten I was leafing through them. By the age of twelve I would read them practically cover-to-cover. I particularly enjoyed guides which were sorted by genre; you could tell where the 'science fiction/fantasy' section was from the dark smears on the outside leaves, worn down from the hours I had spent pouring over them. Likewise, you could easily find the 'western' section by its pristine white pages.

Even if the book were simply an A to Z of film, there were particular places in the alphabet where I would pause. Having an interest in science fiction, 'space,' 'star' and 'invasion' were good places to search. I read with fascination about movies from the horror genre, always certain I would never have the stomach to sit through one. I began to have a sense of what exactly was out there in the world of film and what was considered good or bad within it. I didn't truly become a film aficionado until I watched my first Alfred Hitchcock picture, but even at the time, movies fascinated me. Renting a movie was still a novelty in those days, a rare treat. Boning up on what existed in the world of film gave me ideas of titles to locate at our local video stores.

Of course, there was one movie I held in esteem throughout my childhood, a picture which figured in many of my earliest memories. I can remember the sense of crushing disappointment I had when I made a point of looking it up in the video/movie guide one day. To my horror I read this:

Star Wars (1977)

I was speechless. 1977??? How could it be? I was certain I had seen the movie copyrighted to 1978. Perhaps I had simply owned a Kenner Star Wars toy with a 1978 production date, but somehow, at some point, I had believed Star Wars first came out in 1978. I compared one video/movie guide to another and each confirmed the fact: Star Wars had been originally released in 1977. A year before my birth. A year and a few months, in fact.

I was young enough at the time that I still played with my Star Wars toys and scoured used toy sales for other kids' cast-offs. Marvel Comics' Star Wars was the first comic book I began avidly collecting, attempting to build a complete set of issues. I didn't watch the movies too frequently (the only copies my family owned were those we taped off television in the late 80s) but we watched them at least once per year. At the time I made my discovery about the year of Star Wars' release, Star Wars was still an active presence in my life and would continue to be so until I went to college.

I realize now that I had been so willing to believe Star Wars had come out in 1978 because I was attempting to attach some higher meaning to my affection for the movies. It wasn't enough, apparently, that they were just good films - I wanted to believe Star Wars and I had come into the world together, that there was something verging on the spiritual about my connection to those motion pictures. And there wasn't, not really.

I'm hardly alone in this; certainly not alone in an irrational fervor about Star Wars, but I, like most of us, was trying to figure out my place in the world, a sense of meaning and purpose. I had no concept of what I would do for a living until after my high school years, so I frequently looked to my hobbies to define myself.

Even after I found my career, I flirted with the idea that my hobbies somehow revealed cosmic truths about my identity. There's a website called Mike's Amazing World of Comics which enables people to sort comic book releases by month & year. Visitors are encouraged to use this feature in order to find out what comic books were on sale the month they were born. How could I resist finding out? As a comic book fan, as someone who wound up being employed by Marvel Comics for eight years, surely there would be something there that would... explain who I am. Some piece of the puzzle. That I would click on the 'filter' button, see my favourite comic book story was printed the same month I was born and exclaim, 'Aha! It all makes sense!'

Okay, I was born the month Michael Korvac died. That's... something...?

There were some decent comic books published the month I was born. None that I would consider to be 'great.' And anyway, my favourite comic book story was first published when I was four years old.

It's a human thing to want to find patterns. Everything from astrology to numerology to fortune cookies are designed to appeal to our disbelief in randomness, our mistrust of coincidence, our willingness to find or invent purpose and meaning in items which are inconsequential.

I am grateful, then, to my family's video/movie guide for teaching me a lesson about my identity. If I had been born the same year as Star Wars, I fear I would have internalized that information and forced it to remain part of my identity as I grew up. It's good that I realized I was in error and rejected the idea. It's better to have your eyes open, searching for meaning than to center your life around a fanciful lie you want to believe. It was certainly easier for me to let go of Star Wars in college because I had disconnected myself from the idea that it held a place in my origin.

When my older sister turned 30 my parents were struggling to find something to tack-on to her birthday present that year, when they decided to simply buy her the movie which won the Academy Award for Best Picture the year she was born. Amused by this, I checked up to see what had won the Award in 1978: The Deer Hunter. I had never seen it but knew it wasn't exactly a happy film. I let my parents know that I expected them to buy me a copy of The Deer Hunter when I was thirty and they did - but I don't think I discovered anything more about who I am from that motion picture. Nor did I expect to. "This is this," philosophizes De Niro's character in The Deer Hunter, and that pragmatism has some weight. Movies are movies. Art is art. Art might help you find the tools to express your identity, but you and the art are not the same thing.

"See this? This is this. This ain't something else. This is this."

I've looked beyond popular culture to world events to see what was happening in 1978, what kind of environment I was born into, something which might give me a greater sense of identity. I suppose I feel like a blank slate; I no longer identify myself by the media I consume. How then do I define myself? Through my Christian faith? But how has my faith journey been unique? Having been born into a Christian home and never rejected faith, hasn't it always been there?

And then this year I finally found something which happened in 1978 that might help me make sense of my identity going forward. It wasn't rooted in popular culture or notable enough to earn a footnote in a newspaper. But it was rooted in my family and in faith.

Forty years ago, my aunt & uncle went to Angola to serve as missionaries.

This year, I decided I would do the same.