The People Journal
More Prayers for Haiti
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Friday, January 15th, 2010
A great quote about the Haiti situation:
Seeing suffering awakens me from the slumber of my ignorance, reminds me of my own self-centeredness, and plunges my theology into the deep water of reality. Is God sovereign, even as the earth heaves and fires are kindled? Is He good, even as the last cries of the dead drift quietly into the silence?
Perhaps that’s why I’m feeling so uncomfortable about what has happened - I’ve been thrust out of a situation where I can pretend to believe that things are okay, and now see the reality of a broken world all the more clearly, and that hurts. And maybe I can’t do much about that. I don’t know if that’s inspiring, fatalistic, pessimistic, or just real. I do know I can try the best I can to make a small difference.
No Comments »Prayers for Haiti
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Thursday, January 14th, 2010
I’m certain that anyone reading this post has heard of the earthquake in Haiti. Looking from the outside, I feel really powerless in the face of this tragedy. A lot of people are calling for prayer for Haiti, and I think that’s a good thing. A lot of people have been moved by the destruction, and the death that has happened so far, and continues to be discovered. But, I wonder what prayer is going to accomplish here?
Now, let me put that question in context - Something that has come up in conversation with people recently is our understanding of God. God is often seen as this being that exists outside of what we know and see, and occasionally “breaks in”. A lot of people with this understanding see prayer as asking God to impose himself upon the situation. “God, please be with those in Haiti right now, and be with those that are travelling to help with rescue and recovery operations”. At its best, a prayer like this is asking God to do work we want done (which is often really good things). At its worst, we’re treating God like Santa Claus. So, every time I feel the urge to pray for Haiti, I think that I’m trying to either harness a hurricane, or feel like I’m trying to get God to do work that I should be doing myself.
Yet, I don’t know what I can do myself. There is always the obvious one of giving money to charities that will be doing recovery there. This is simple, and effective, but after I am left with a sense that I need to do more. But what is more? It’s not like I have any useful skills to go down right now and help with rescue and recovery. I have just as few skills when it comes to doing something like rebuilding later. So, I’m left feeling like I’m not doing enough, and then not praying enough, so I must be doing something really wrong.
Am I the only one feeling this?
Words made flesh
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Saturday, January 2nd, 2010
John1: 1-3 — In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; nothing without him was made that had been made.
I love the image of God speaking the world into being. His words become real - ‘owr became light, raqiya becomes land, ‘Adam’ rises from the ‘Adamah’. There’s power in God’s voice.
We don’t often believe we have that same ability. When we speak, we don’t consider what is created by our words. We all (myself included) flippantly say things, believing that the words die as they are spoken - jokes about others, insults of ourselves, sarcastic remarks about whatever we chose to belittle. We don’t stop to consider what lives on after we have created these words - the life they will take as they affect those that have heard them. A simple personal insult of oneself may be heard by someone else, and they may begin to believe it of themselves. A sarcastic joke about culture may heard by someone and place even more guilt and shame on them.
Our culture thrives on insults and jokes about others. So many comedians, so many writers thrive on putting either themselves or someone else down. The consequence of the words are thought to be a few laughs, but nothing more.
Perhaps a new way to be counter-cultural is to consider your words. Consider the life they will have once they are spoken. We don’t have the luxury of knowning how they are going to grow and affect those around us. We do have the ability to not speak. We have the ability to listen. We have the ability to build each other up. Let us try and use our words to build, to encouarge, and see how that changes the comming year.
The Christmas I never noticed
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Tuesday, December 15th, 2009
I’ve been fascinated with the Christmas story this year. It started with the usual stuff running around in my head (influences, stuff I’m reading, things I make up that I believe to be true) and has helped me see that the Christmas story is a fascinating story. (The thing with Epiphanies, is that while you may finally understand something, it’s probably been said long before, it much better words).
Initially, I was thinking about the Christmas story, and thought it was tired - it seems like a bad sitcom. It starts with a couple who are near getting married, and the girl gets pregnant. Then, unfortunately they need to go travelling away from their family, for the census. When they get to Bethlehem, all the rooms are booked up and the only place they could sleep, without sleeping out in the street, was in a barn. Then, to top it all off Mary goes into labour (darn bumpy donkey rides!). But then, it all works out when the shepherds come, and the wise men come bearing gifts, and the angels are singing overhead. I didn’t realize how much of my culture I was imposing on this story.
The first thing that never crossed my mind, was: why weren’t Mary and Joseph travelling with family? If everyone had to go to their birthplaces and place of ancestry, I think it would be safe to assume that there would be someone in the same family travelling from Galilee to Bethleham. It’s pretty obvious why it plays out the way it does: to everyone else, it would have looked like Mary had sex (willingly or not, but that didn’t matter in those days), and thus was less than dirt.
The next thing that never crossed my mind, was about Mary and Joseph staying at an inn. In modern times, when people travel, they usually stay at hotels, so I didn’t think anything of this. But, really, if you were going to see family (or even if you were going somewhere near where your family lived), you probably would stay with your family. I learned recently that Inn Keepers were considered people who are “honourless” - without honour. That’s not to say they were bad people, but they didn’t have a part in the Honour system that made up the social heirarchy of the time. To stay at an inn, you would typically be someone who had no family, or no honour (due to poor choices, or just unfortunate circumstances), otherwise you would stay with your family. Family was huge (and for many people still is) for those 2000 years ago. They only way Mary and Joesph would have been staying at the inn is that they were either kicked out of the family, or didn’t want to face the family, and try and explain the holy baby. Its quite possible that the inn keeper himself knew the disgrace upon these two and wouldn’t even let them stay in the inn (or maybe he was just selfish and didn’t want to run the risk of dealing with the mess of child birth in one of his rooms).
Next, Angels appeared to Shepherds. Again, with the honour system, you would expect a King to come and meet with the local King. In this case, Herod, and/or the chief priests of the temple would have been at the top of the list. Shepherds, while not honourless, certainly weren’t very high in the heirarchy of honour. God just sidesteps what we would expect, and finds the lowest shepherds (think of the janitor stuck working the nightshift) to announce his comming.
The final thing that I have never thought much of was the Magi. I’ve heard that they may have been taught Judiasim from Daniel (or at least through his lineage). They may have just been mystics for all I know. But what I find facinating, is that these people see a Star in the sky, and realize they’re to follow it. I would assume that they have seen many stars, and I don’t think that they were the kind of people who would follow every unique star wondering “I wonder what’s under that”. Something must have been special with what they saw. Yet, no one in Bethlehem, or Jerusalem, or in all of Judea saw this star. It would have been right near them, right under their noses, but they couldn’t see it. It took outsiders to see that something special was happening (whether they arrived shortly after Jesus’ birth, or a year or two later, I don’t think it matters - the point is still clear).
This is all to say I’m beginning to realize that the Christmas story is a fascinating, many layered story. There’s heartbreak, there’s struggle, there is hope, and even a little bit of resolution. I’ve just been missing the signs all along.
And really, I am amazed that it seems like the point of this story is God comming to Earth and spitting on our systems of social heirarchy. God clearly wants nothing to do with it, and I think that’s a powerful start to Jesus’ story.
Happy Accidents, happy community
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Wednesday, November 4th, 2009
Burnside Writers Collective has a great article up today. I love ideas that bring me back to concepts I struggle with, but provide a clairity that was previously missing.
What I love about the article is the reminder that we can’t force a “community”. We can create groups for people to meet, but that’s not creating community. Its about people connecting with people, and its those connections that make community. I have struggled over what we need to do to make Ecclesiax a “better community” for a while now. And, I think I’m back at the same conclusion I had previously, but I understand it better now: if I want to make Ecclesiax a better community, I need to be making connections with other people at the church.
It’s all about starting points, and its about those accidental collisions with people that lead to something.
I do believe that there is room for structure as well. I think that there needs to be something that is drawing people out to something (be it concerts, or sunday worship, or making christmas gifts, etc.) where those connections can start. But, it’s not these things that make the community. No matter how many different programs a church runs, that doesn’t make a community. Its all about building bonds of relationship.
I do believe though, that building relationships can’t be the focus of the group though. I think there needs to be some common purpose or goal. The greater the goal or purpose, the greater the challenge. The greater the challenge, the deeper the relationship can become.
Music as Worship, as response
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Tuesday, October 27th, 2009
I appologize, as this post all over the map, but its where I’m at right now with music and worship. I’ve been wondering about posting this for almost a week now, but hopefully it can get some discussion started.
I really struggle with the connection between music and worship. I have this simplified understanding that “Worship of God” should be my response to God, resulting from my understanding of God (or more specifically lack there-of). If I see God as profound, as life changing, I should respond accordingly - yet so often it seems I’m not responding to anything. Music has been a tool used historically, as it is able to reflect an emotional response. So often I struggle, watching music becomming a narcisisstic tool, used to raise one’s own self-worth in front of a congregation (and I’m not innocent of this). The frustrating thing in all of this, is that almost every time I’m fed up with music in churches, I experience something authentic that gives me hope again (thanks Arjun, Sean and Zac).
Not long ago, in my journal, I wrote “Music is my golden calf”. Its one of the few things that has stuck with me. Some days I swear I worship the music more than I worship God. It starts by me focusing on “how deep are the words” followed by “how creative and original the tune is” (acutually its probably in reverse). Soon, all I am focused on is the song itself, missing what the song is pointed to. Somehow I have lost the ability for myself to be lost in the music, as I overly intellectualize all the elements, focusing on the question of if it will create a good worship atmosphere. It’s a funny circular thinking that seems to ruin what its trying to accomplish.
For a long time now, I have understood the role of worship leader (read–person playing the instrument up in front of the congregation) as the person who’s supposed to help the congregation connect with God on a different level. Is that even a realistic goal? Leadership in a church is all about being a servant, so the “Worship leader” is a servant of the congregation. But, how does one select music that will appeal to everyone, that will provide a profound experience, that will help people get beyond the music to connecting with God? I am beginning to wonder if its those goals are somehow wrong, as if I’m trying to make the music out to be more than it is. Then I am struck back to the beginning, wondering how to select music for worship.
Music, what is it good for?
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Tuesday, October 13th, 2009
I’ve been watching a church I really care deeply for start to rip itself apart over music (no, not Ecclesiax). There are deeper issues in that church, but all anyone can see is the surface things right now, and everyone is taking the music issue personally. Even Ecclesiax is struggling with music. I’ve heard comments about how we’re playing more traditional worship music now, as opposed to trying to draw in other music that wouldn’t traditionally be played in a church.
I really don’t like the idea of “this week is -insert style here-, while next week is -insert different style-”. I’ve seen too many people try to pick and choose the sundays they come based on that. Church is more than the style of music you listen to, and if you reduce your commitment to attending a church based on the fact that you only like a certain band playing, that’s spiritually unhealthy. Yes, we all do well with some variety otherwise we will end up in a rut in a big hurry, but if you alternate weeks, you’ll get into your rut just a quickly, but with people attending spottily.
How does one pick music for worship now? There are so many varieties of music, and everyone has their preferences. Sometimes a church can rally around its music, like the Hillsongs churches. In London, it was clearly a uniting thing, but I know I cannot take what is happening there and try it anywhere else. That is music set up for a community, run by that community, created by that community, for that community. But, the experience transcended the music, it was about far more than the chords, and the harmonies, and the dancing singers on the stage.
I was at a taize event last year, and we were essentially signing variations on french folk songs, and ancient choruses. The music was anything other than progressive, but it was profound, transcendent worship. Again, the music pointed to something greater.
How does one do this intentionally? I have lead worship in many different setting, at many different events. I have worshiped at an even greater variety of events. Sometimes it was great, people really were able to connect to God. Others, I might as well have been playing Garth Brooks songs to a bunch of hip-hop heads (not to say anyone who listens to hip-hop doesn’t like new country, but I think my example is valid). It’s not a formula, there isn’t a magical list of songs that if I play I can get the Spirit of God moving over the waters of the congregation.
Music appeals to our deeper selves. Some of it connects deeply within us, while other music repulses us. Right now I’m feeling like I want to say “Music, what is it good for? Absolutly nothing.” And, in the sense of worship, I think that’s true. The music is meaningless. It only takes on meaning if we allow the music to point to something greater. But how does one do this? Given that we all live in a culture, and every style of music is making a cultural statement. If I try to play old hymns in a blue-grass style, that’s making a statement. If I play the latest David Crowder song, that’s making a statement.
How does one break away from that, and help their congregation break away from that, and bring it back to the intended focus, that of worshiping God? Is this even possible?
Cognitive Dissonance sounds lovely
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Friday, September 25th, 2009
I had a bit of a “mind-blowing” experience today, and I was the source. Sadly it wasn’t something profound that caused it, but a confusion of sorts that was playing out in an unexpected way. The CBC ran an article today about a soldier who lost his leg in Afghanistan due to an IED (and three other people in the vehicle died), and has successfully rehabilitated himself to be able to go back into service over there.
What was intersting for me is that I know him. I don’t know him well, as he’s “a friend of a friend of a friend”, but I have met him a few times to think that I know him. And I think he’s a good guy. From talking with his wife, there was some trepedation with him going back to Afghanistan, but it is clearly important for him. What struck me in all of this though, was one comment in particular. Someone refered to Simon as “a war-mongerer”, becuase there is no other way someone would want to go back after what he has experienced. This comment left me very angry. From the conversations I’ve had with Simon, war isn’t something glamourous, exciting, or garbage like that. It wasn’t like he wanted to go over and “shoot those –insert explitive here–”. He truly believes in the good that the mission has done, and will do.
Now, what was interesting in my mind is that I don’t like war, and from what I’ve read in the media, I’m concerned that what is happening in Afghanistan is not good. I really believe that as a world we would be better off eliminating the option of killing each other (and perhaps blowing things up, and dragging in innocent people) as a way of resolving conflict, and yet here in my mind I was seriously wanting to comment to say that he should have the right to continue to serve over there, and good on him for sticking to his principles.
The cognitive dissonance in my mind interested me at that point, because I was beginning to get a glimpse of what unity might look like. I’m sure if Simon and I were in a debate, I would be strongly on the “anti-war in Afghanistan” and he would be “pro”, but I respect his opinion and right to go and serve. The reason why I can say this is that I know for the both of us we’re comming from the same place - wanting to see the best for those in Afghanistan.
Perhaps as Christians, we shouldn’t get so worked up about “pro” vs. “anti” war, or gay-rights, or what ever, becuase at the heart of it we’re just wanting to share Jesus with people, trying to offer them what we see as great hope.
Lets remember what we have in common, and that’s Jesus, who is the source of great things.
What is Social Justice
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Tuesday, September 22nd, 2009
Many people at Ex seem to strugle with “social justice”, and what it means to “love your neighbour”, etc. I think this is one of the most commonly discussed issues with the modern church, as we wrestle with the question of “what is our responsibility on earth?”.
I’m not really qualified to offer suggestions, as I am constantly wrestling with this idea with no conclusions. (I’m having images of Jacob wrestling the angel, and figure if I’m lucky enough to get blessed, I’ll leave with a severe limp). Burnside Writers Collective has been quiet for a while as they updated their site, but if this is what they were waiting for, it was worth it. If social justice is something that is imporant to you, please, read it!
I often enjoy Penny Carothers’ writing, as she has a gift for getting to the heart of things. To give some context, she’s the “Penny” that’s refered to often in Don Miller’s Blue Like Jazz.
Incremental change leads to no change at all?
Posted by: Jim Mondry on Friday, August 7th, 2009
One of my favourite novels that I read in high school was To Kill a Mockingbird. I’m not sure what it was that I enjoyed, whether it was an ambiguous novel about right and wrong, or that it had a twisted not-so-happy, but good enough ending, or whether I just enjoyed the story.
I also love Malcolm Gladwell… (stay with me here, I am going somewhere)
On the New Yorker, Gladwell has written a really interesting review of To Kill a Mockingbird. He comes at it from an angle I haven’t heard before-actually comparing the social issues occurring in Alabama at the time it was written to the story itself. In his review though, there was something that really jumped out at me:
Dickens thought that large contradictions could be tamed through small moments of justice. He believed in the power of changing hearts, and that’s what you believe in, Orwell says, if you “do not wish to endanger the status quo.”
[If you want to understand the context of how it went from talking about Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird, to talking about George Orwell and Charles Dickens, you'll just have to read the article.]
This idea, that small changes will only maintain the status quo is running roughshod through my mind. One of the things that I understand about Christianity is that we as people are slowly transformed through our relationships with God and with Jesus (and the Bible and other Christians and…). While some folks have the clear repentance moments where there is a drastic change in their lives, most seem to only live with the incremental changes. [As a point of reference, I have never experiences any of these life changing events, only gradual changes in my person]
Does this mean that we’re just maintaining the status quo in our lives? Are we selling ourselves short, to avoid the pain of drastic change?
As I’m thinking of stories from the bible about people interacting with Jesus, there are clear monumental changes that occur for many of those who meet Jesus. The disciples: they leave their jobs and follow around this odd Rabbi. The bleeding woman: is healed. Zaccheus: pays back all those he has cheated, and lives to become an honest tax collector (honestly, I really wonder how long that lasted). The list goes on.
One example where drastic change didn’t occur is the rich man in the gospel of Mark. He comes up with an honest, but probably selfish question: what must I do to inherit eternal life? Jesus gives him the obvious answer of follow the commandments. When the man responds saying he’s kept them all his life, Jesus then replies with what he needs: “Go, sell everything that you have and give to the poor. Then you will have treasure in Heaven. Then come, follow me.” (Mark 10:21).
But what does this man do? He sulks off. It’s too hard. He can’t handle the drastic change, or is unwilling. There was no suggestion to gradually sell your things, and give more and more to the poor, it was a clear call for drastic change. The tension has been created between this man’s things, and the poor. The resolution of the story isn’t the happy ending of him selling everything and following Jesus, but the opposite, he lives on as usual. He probably didn’t like the idea of eternal life anymore, without all his stuff.
Dicken’s believed in changing hearts through gradual change (or at least that’s what I’m getting from Gladwell, who got that from Orwell). It seems Jesus is more interested in drastic change. For those of us who have never experienced that “drastic change” in our lives, are we missing something? Is there something holding us back?
Is drastic change the only way to bring about what we need in churches, in communities, and in our lives? Is this the only way to break out of our habits, and grow?
How does someone determine what the drastic change that’s required must be?
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