Contrary to public opinion, I think the Bachelor and the Bachelorette are important shows. Seriously? You ask.

This post started because my friend Kate Murray shared her thoughts on the show. She said:

Last night I watched the Bachelorette.  I never watch the Bachelorette.  I don’t know what got into me, but I sat on the couch, for two hours, listening to the guys “tell all” and recount their stories from the season.  Mostly I watched as they and this season’s Bachelorette, Ali, spoke of finding love and her quest to find the man of her dreams.

But as I watched, I thought about how different their experiences have been from my own – and if any relationship that begins in such a setting (not only in exotic locations, but on national TV) can survive the reality of life (most don’t – I think only two or three couples have actually made it down the aisle and are still together).

Her observations made me thing of another show I watch with my kids.  It’s called Wipeout. Contestants navigate an obstacle course and get pummeled a long the way. What I’ve noticed is that the course is designed to produce moments of hilarious pummeling. In other words, its designed for the laugh, not the contestants.  There are points in the course that the contestants simply can’t get by without experiencing a dramatic wipeout, hence the name.

The producers of Wipeout are smart because they pick really interesting, and rather kooky people who are willing to look silly on tv.  Those willing to make fun of themselves have the chance to win 50 thousand dollars. They highlight those willing to make fun of themselves. Its no unusual for contestants to dance in costumes, shout native calls, talk about their desire for breast reduction surgery (a male), and show their ninja skills.

I’ve watched the Bachelor and the Bachelorette in the past and I can help but wonder the same thing. The show is not really designed to produce relationship. It’s designed to produce a moment where we cringe, guffaw, and laugh AT the contestants. Both shows are like a pressure cookers designed to produce cringe worthy moments where someone melts down on television.  Those are the moments everyone talks about on Twitter and Facebook.  “Did you see that guy last night get the tattoo for the girl.  LOSER.”  We’re in on the gag because we now know from the history of the show that no matter how much they think its real, it is not.  No matter how much they try, there is a high degree of probability that they will not make it.  In other words, the show is for our experience, not the contestants.

I think we watch because the show gives us our dream scenario.  Contestants are given dream situations for their dates, romantic possibilities that only a few could experience, and are then expected to make a choice that is largely undignifying no matter how much they rationalize it.  But if the dream does anything it shows that it more likely a nightmare.

When you look into a mirror do you see a child of God called very good?

One of the critical distinctions I make in my book, Discovering The God Imagination: Reconstructing A Whole New Christianity, is that the problem God is solving in the mission of God is our capacity to lose site of how God sees us.  The problem is in essence our capacity to construct a judgment that is different from God’s.  The problem God is solving is actually inside of us.  Can we do something to lose the love of God?  Can we change what is true?

I make a strong contention in my book that we can’t really participate with God in mission unless we know what problem God is actually solving.  And if we spend all of our time thinking the problem is God’s lack of capacity to deal with our negative actions, or what we would historically call sin, we’ll spend all of our time trying to appease God.  Yet if the story seems to show anything, it is God’s infinite capacity to overcome our sin and show mercy.

How would you answer the question above?

I don’t like to defend my own certainty anymore. I’ve come to believe the notion of certainty is not the point.

Recently a friend named Chad posted a note in Facebook defending certainty.  Chad explores it based on  Hebrews 11.

Hebrews 11:1 – Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

And I completely get the point he was trying to make.  At some point we need to have faith in something, to be certain to an extent.  If we lose the idea that we have faith in something, we have faith in nothing.  But the dialog that followed though illustrated to me why I don’t defend the notion of certainty.  It never comes out the way I had hoped it would.  It usually ends up with hurt feelings and misunderstandings.  Two ships continue to pass in the night.

If I defend it, it misses what the certainty is actually for, which is the fruit of love.  If I really believe it doesn’t really matter what anyone else thinks.  It only matters that I actually believe it.  The person I’m really trying to convince is myself.  And in regards to my faith, the best way for me to be certain that I am certain of my faith is made real in the act of love.  Is my certainty producing love in a way that is life giving, hope-filled, and draws people in, as opposed to pushes them away if they don’t agree with my certainty.

The truest defense of the faith is not a defense of the faith but the act of love. It’s the fulfillment of the Great Commandment.  Its a life lived in a way that actually reveals the Gospel.  Because I can say I believe anything.  But if my life doesn’t reveal it, well then its BS.  This is what I love about the cross.  It’s the truest measure of love.  Are we willing to love in such a way that people cannot help but be profoundly touched, even in a way that requires our own suffering?

I’m reading Flow, the Psychology of Optimal Experience, and I’m diggin’ it. Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (don’t even try to pronounce that) explores the state when our bodies are generating what he calls optimal psychic energy to achieve our goals.  To explain the idea he breaks down the beauty of complexity by stating flow requires complexity, not simplicity.

“Complexity is the result of two broad psychological processes: differentiation and integration.  Differentiation implies a movement toward uniqueness, towards separating oneself from others.  Integration refers to its opposite: a union with other people, with ideas and entities beyond the self.  A complex self is one that succeeds in combining these opposite tendencies.”

Mihaly uses the idea of a engine.  In order to work, each part is highly differentiated but only works effectively in union with the other parts.  Alone each part is useless to a large extent.  It’s limited if it operates exclusively in differentiation.  But if its differentiation is appreciated in union with the other parts, it shines.

“A self that is only differentiated-not integrated-may attain great individual accomplishments, but risks being mired in self-centered egotism.  By the same token, a person whose self is based exclusively on integration will be connected and secure, but lack autonomous individuality.  Only when a person invests equal amounts of psychic energy in these TWO processes and avoids both selfishness and conformity is the self likely to reflect complexity.”

What I think he’s suggesting is that complexity is the highest form of community because it is only possible when autonomous individual parts feel comfortable enough to just be who they are in a gathering of people.  I started thinking about what that would look for things like marriage, business partnerships and church.  In many ways this is only possible in the space of intentional grace, where people are comfortable in their own skin but are comfortable with other people’s skin too.

Blows my mind.

A couple of years ago I was part of a group of people that wanted to start a church.  In hindsight, I still believe in the idea but it was a little too complex.  It required a little too much organization.  The idea got shelved for several reasons but the idea of an intentional community stuck with me.

This last week I had a vision while attending my current community, which is essentially a traditional evangelical church.  My thought was this.  Could a community gather together simply for the sake of practicing the Great Commandment. The simplicity of the question startled me for a second.  But over the next half hour I was mesmerized by the idea.  And in that time a new idea for church was born.

I jotted down three words: worship, storytelling, feasting.  That was it. The community would gather together to worship.  Then we would spend 30-45 minutes allowing the community to dialog, wrestle and share on how we are engaging love in community.  The community would inform the process, as opposed to a single person.  There would be no teaching.  And then the community would share a meal together.

As I shared the idea with my friends (both of whom had been involved in the original idea two years ago) it quickly caught their attention.  Could it be possible to gather together in such a simple way?  The first concern we ran into was the assumption that we needed to teach from Scripture.  And I get that.  But as we thought about it, could we be making things hard by not allowing the community to inform the process. It didn’t mean we avoided Scripture.  It means that we simplify it by engaging love. The practice of love is the fulfillment of everything. Anyone can do it. It doesn’t make it easy, which is what connects us together.

Just curious what you think and any feedback?

There are no words that can accurately describe the loss of a child.

Today at around 1:30 PM I got a email from a friend that said my friend’s son had been hit by a car and was being lifeflighted to the hospital.  He didn’t make it.  For about ten minutes I walked around the house, unable to process what I had just heard.  I didn’t want to think that this little boy, who I knew so well had been taken from this life.  What made it more real was that his name was Carter.  He was seven.  I have a son who is eight named Carter.  Our sons had played together so many times.

For the next two hours I was unable to work or pretty much do anything. Sudden death is like a syndrome that just takes over.  It makes no sense and arrests my body of its strength.  I have no control over my own emotions.  I weep as I write this. 

Did I say there are no words that can accurately describe the loss of a child.

I sometimes wonder if God cried for his own son?  Did he weep when Jesus hung on the cross?  Did he agonize over the cost of what it took to reveal how far love would go?   I have to believe the answer is yes.

Please lift up Brandon and Alicia if you can.

It is currently available for preorder here, with a 25% discount.  The official title is: Discovering The God Imagination, Reconstructing A Whole New Christianity.

Over the next week I’m going to be sharing some of the contents of the book.

You can download a sample chapter here or here.

It seems like I’ve had some of the best conversations lately. It started with this post, which asks if Christianity is a system of belief or a way of life.  And then it extended to this post, which asks if denying God is wrestling with God.  And within these conversations seems to be common thread.  What is a follower of Jesus? What is the true essence, the stripped down version of being a follower? In other words, did Jesus come to establish complexity or simplicity?

I ask this because of a recent conversation I had with a friend who said that he has a bunch of friends who are willing to practice love, which is arguably the basis of what it means to follow Jesus, but who are completely unwilling to set foot into the church.  In other words, they dig what Jesus is saying but they are unwilling to add on all of the religious jargon associated with Christianity.  And for them its not just about social justice, but about engaging a deeper form of what it means to be human.

And it seems like so many people I meet and talk to are wrestling with this strange notion of what it means to strip away the religious connotations, in order to get to following.  We all want the real thing.  And this desire is not limited to Christians.  It’s deeper than that.  Its extends to human beings (who are created in the image of God anyway).  Jesus even said, “You will know them by their fruit.”  And can’t we make the assumption that love is the greatest fruit, and the essence of Jesus’ intention for spiritual formation?

So I would ask if you think one can be a follower of Jesus, and not set foot in the church or participate in traditional forms of worship?  Can one be a follower of Jesus simply by practicing love. And this doesn’t mean not participating in community because so many of my friends already have tribes that are asking these deeper questions, and they aren’t taking place in churches.

I’m engaged in a conversation right now with some friends on Emergence.  Its that little conversation that won’t seem to die, no matter how many people carve its gravestone. ;-P

I have a friend who recently put up a blog site that is actively pushing the bounds, essentially denying what we would typically think of as orthodox Christianity.  Yet at the same time this person is claiming to be a follower of Jesus.  It’s creating an interesting space of tension.  My friend is concerned that this denial is dangerous ground.  Its one of those moments we would likely call a slippery slope, which I would again ask if Jesus is found at the bottom of the slippery slope?

I  actually agree that my friend is on dangerous ground but not for the reason some might think.

You see when I see someone actively wrestle with the topics that make up this thing we call Christianity, even making patently heretical statements like Jesus is not the Son of God, I’m not really worried.  Because I’ve come to believe that actively rejecting God is a form of wrestling with God.  What if the journey towards God for some requires actively throwing God a stiff arm and saying, “Can you love me now?” We can’t ignore that my friend created the site and has made some bold statements regarding his own faith. Can grace penetrate even the spaces of doubt?

If we look at the Prodigal Son, his active leaving of his family did not change his father.  It change the son.  Leaving became the space for the son to work out his own identity and self.  If we look at the story of Jacob, wrestling is the primary metaphor of the human experience.  God names the nation of Israel after the one who wrestles, not the founder.  This is an astounding thought because Abraham represents the one who is promised blessing, but Jacob is the one who represents the human experience.  Jacob is the one who gets it wrong in order to fight his way through.

My concern would be if my friend just stopped caring.  If he did nothing, then I’d be wondering if the Gospel has been lost on my friend.  But I will choose to believe that God is actively sparring with my friend and saying, “Yes, see!  This is my son and he’s on his way home.”

What do you think?  Do you share my opinion or find pushback?

Postscript: James provided a nice follow up post called, Why Do I Follow Jesus? It provides some better insight into his wrestling.

A friend of mine recently said, “I came to this conference for soul care.”  When I heard that it resonated with me.  I too had come not just for the speakers and event, but for the nurturing soul care that happens when I gather with people who reflect love.  Sometimes I need to receive. And it made me wonder.

What restores your soul?  What do you do or encounter or practice that feeds you and gives you soul care?