An Amateur's Political Theory

Disclaimers:

(1) I ordinarily don’t publicly get into politics.
(2) I have no inside information.
(3) I “know” only what I watch/read/hear on various media.
(4) I am a fan of “No Labels” and the Coffee Party who wishes we had a viable moderate 3rd party option.
(5) I am accomplished at putting 2 and 2 together and coming up with 5.
(6) I am not completely without sense.

Now the theory:

Last year Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell said that the GOP’s top priority was to deny President Obama a second term. My theory (which probably is not original to me but I’ve not read or heard it elsewhere) is that the Republican strategy on the debt ceiling “negotiations” is to box the President into a situation where, no matter what he does, it will severely cripple his chances of re-election.

My theory holds that they have accomplished their goal through two shrewd maneuvers.

Maneuver #1

By holding the vote to raise the debt ceiling hostage to the “No Tax” oath that so many of the them have made to Grover Norquist, the Republicans have apparently maneuvered the President into agreeing that whatever deal is struck will lead to no revenue increases, not even those that would come from closing loopholes or allowing some tax cuts to expire, but will include large cuts to programs that help people that Democrats have traditionally cared a lot about helping.

That maneuver hurts the President with his base and thus hurts his chances to be re-elected.

Maneuver #2

House Speaker John Boehner’s plan, should it arrive on the President’s desk, would put the President in the position of either (a) signing a bill that he has said is unacceptable because it raises the debt ceiling for only six months, meaning that we’d right back then where we are now or (b) vetoing that bill, an act that would cause the United States to default on some of its obligations.

In the case of (a) the President would be embroiled in a second round of brutal debt ceiling negotiations in the midst of his re-election campaign while in the case of (b) he would be placed in the position of being blamed for a likely financial meltdown of historic proportions.

I realize that the experts think that Boehner’s plan might not pass the House because some Republicans think it doesn’t go far enough in making budget cuts and that if it does pass the House it will never get through the Democrat-controlled Senate.

Isn’t it just possible, though, that Speaker Boehner and his colleagues are betting that, when the House and Senate are up against the August 2 deadline, they will pass his plan, if they see no way to get anything else through, so they will not be held responsible for causing the first default in U.S. government history? Someone might say, “Isn’t it just as possible that, following the same logic, the House and Senate will agree on Sen. Harry Reid’s plan, which the President has said he would sign?” to which I say, “Well, haven’t the Republicans won every stare-down contest to this point in this process?”

If, out of desperation to avoid being held responsible for defaulting on our obligations, the House and Senate pass the Boehner plan thereby forcing the President to sign it (which my guess is he would have to do) or to veto it (which he might do but I have a hard time seeing it), he will either way be crippled politically almost certainly beyond his ability to recover.

And the Republican’s main objective, as articulated by Sen. McConnell last year, will have been accomplished—regardless of its cost to the standing and stability of the nation.

Politically, it is brilliant.

On all other counts, history will be the judge.

Order My New Book

Look in the right-hand column of the blog to order my new book Living on the Edge: Preaching Advent in Year C. It should prove helpful to preachers preparing for Advent 2012. It will also provide helpful devotional reading during any Advent season.

The Moth, the Flame, and the Christian

(A sermon based on John 12:9-11 preached at the First Baptist Church of Fitzgerald, GA on Sunday, July 17, 2011)


I once had an e-mail exchange with Norman Greenbaum. You may not know who Norman Greenbaum is. He’s a musician who recorded a lot of material over the years but who is best known for one song, “Spirit in the Sky,” which was a hit in 1970. Imagine how I, an 11 year old Christian boy, living in Barnesville and listening to rock music on WQXI FM out of Atlanta, was stunned to hear lines like these coming out of my radio:

When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best
When I lay me down to die
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky
That's where I'm gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
Gonna go to the place that's the best.

Prepare yourself you know it's a must
Gotta have a friend in Jesus
So you know that when you die
He's gonna recommend you
To the spirit in the sky
Goin' up to the spirit in the sky
That's where you're gonna go when you die
When you die and they lay you to rest
You're gonna go to the place that's the best.

I would have been even more stunned had I known then as I know now that Norman Greenbaum was not a Christian. Still, all these years later, that song is still being played on radio stations and is quite often used in motion picture soundtracks.

In my e-mail to Greenbaum, I told him that it was good to be remembered for one thing. If in a lifetime a person produces something good and positive and is remembered for that one thing, that’s good.

Lazarus is remembered for one good thing, too, but what a thing it is. He was raised from the dead by Jesus Christ. After he had been in his tomb for four days, Jesus came along and called his name and the next thing he knew he was standing in the sunlight wondering what that had been all about. If Lazarus had children, he certainly had a story to tell them.

But Lazarus didn’t have to tell anybody about that amazing occurrence for word about it to get around. Plenty of people had seen it and, people being what people are (they’ll talk plenty about things that don’t happen, after all), the word spread. Overnight, Lazarus went from being an unknown small-town fellow to a major tourist attraction. Had he lived today, there would have been a major motion picture with all the marketing tie-ins: Lazarus Happy Meals, Lazarus souvenir cups, and Lazarus action figures. And, of course, you could have visited Lazarus’ website at www.hestinkethnomore.com.

But what happened to Lazarus happened then, not now, so it was by word of mouth that his story was spread, and lots of people were coming to see him. And people remembered. We still remember.

Lazarus is remembered not for something that he did but because of what Jesus did to him. Lazarus was dead, but Jesus caused him to be alive. Jesus gave Lazarus new life. How many people can say that?

Well, come to think of it, a whole lot of us can. All of us who have experienced the grace of God have been given new life by Jesus. All of us who have been saved have been given new life by Jesus.

Lazarus had to see the world in a different way after he came out of that tomb. I’ve talked with people who have come back from the brink of death and they assure me that they view life differently. Lazarus had been four days past the brink when he came back. No wonder people wanted to see him. I suspect that the word that got around about Lazarus was not just that he once had been dead but now was alive; I suspect that the word also was about how he had changed. I suspect that the word was not just about how Jesus had enabled Lazarus to overcome his death; I suspect that it was also about how Jesus had enabled Lazarus to live a different kind of life.

We who have been given new life by Jesus Christ are to know a different kind of life that is characterized by lots of realities: growing love, increasing trust, expanding grace, a bent toward forgiveness, and a concern for anybody who is “other,” to name a few. In other words, the new life given by Jesus is a life that is joined to his. For the rest of his life, Lazarus would be associated with Jesus.
No one would ever again think of Lazarus without also thinking of Jesus. For Lazarus, that association with Jesus made all the difference.

Also, the association of Lazarus with Jesus caused him to have an influence on the people with whom he came in contact. Many people were coming to believe in Jesus because of Lazarus. That’s the way it works, you know. In Lazarus’ case, people could some to see Jesus and him and what had happened to Lazarus contributed to their decision to believe. Ever since Jesus ascended to his Father, people have been coming to Jesus because of what they see in his followers. Our influence derives from our association with Jesus.

That association with Jesus can be dangerous, though. I would go so far as to say that it should be dangerous. The authorities plotted to put Lazarus to death in addition to Jesus exactly because of his influence. Radical discipleship leads to radical influence that leads to radical reactions. By “radical influence” I mean the kind of influence that comes from the living of a life that is truly joined to the life of Christ and thus exhibits his characteristics, characteristics that run counter to the ways of our culture. People with eyes to see and ears to hear will see Christ in such living and will be drawn to him through it. Other people will resist, sometimes with serious resistance. Those are “radical reactions” either way.

Lazarus was put in a precarious position by his association with Jesus. So are we, if we’re doing anything about it. That precarious position does not come just from the reactions of other people. It also comes from the very nature of discipleship, which by its nature is radical. When it’s real, we are drawn to it in all of its glory. That means giving our lives up, laying ourselves out, putting ourselves at risk, all for the sake of the Christ who gave his life for us and for the sake of other people, for whom he also gave his life.

But it’s worth it. It’s worth it because a life lived joined to Christ is a life worth living. Living such a life means being willing to risk ourselves for the glory of it all.

“Where the heart is, the feet don’t hesitate to go,” says a Togo proverb. That’s true even if the heart leads you to challenging and dangerous places. Does your heart reflect a new life given by Jesus that results in such close association with him that your feet willingly carry you to challenging places?

One day I came across this poem by Don Marquis.

the lesson of the moth

i was talking to a moth
the other evening
he was trying to break into
an electric light bulb
and fry himself on the wires

why do you fellows
pull this stunt i asked him
because it is the conventional
thing for moths or why
if that had been an uncovered
candle instead of an electric
light bulb you would
now be a small unsightly cinder
have you no sense

plenty of it he answered
but at times we get tired
of using it
we get bored with the routine
and crave beauty
and excitement
fire is beautiful
and we know that if we get
too close it will kill us
but what does that matter
it is better to be happy
for a moment
and be burned up with beauty
than to live a long time
and be bored all the while
so we wad all our life up
into one little roll
and then we shoot the roll
that is what life is for
it is better to be a part of beauty
for one instant and then cease to
exist than to exist forever
and never be a part of beauty
our attitude toward life
is come easy go easy
we are like human beings
used to be before they became
too civilized to enjoy themselves

and before i could argue him
out of his philosophy
he went and immolated himself on a patent cigar lighter
i do not agree with him
myself i would rather have
half the happiness and twice
the longevity

but at the same time i wish
there was something i wanted
as badly as he wanted to fry himself

Lazarus’ association with Jesus put him in a very precarious position. The life he was compelled to lead because of what Jesus had done for him put him at risk. But can you imagine that he would have had it any other way? Can you imagine that he for one moment thought that it was not worth it? Don’t you think that Lazarus thought it was the most important thing in the world that he had found something that was so vital and so beautiful that if it burned him up it was worth it?

Hear this: the beauty of Christ consumes us. The beauty of our new life in Christ draws us like the flame draws the moth. It takes all that we are. It takes all—but it gives so much more.

Bin Laden’s Death & My Spirit

You’d think it would be so simple.

You’d think that I would be able to look at a simple formula like “Osama bin Laden killed thousands of Americans + Now American forces have killed Osama bin Laden = Justice has been done” and feel good about it.

I don’t feel good.

In saying that I’m not saying that I believe that bin Laden should not have been brought to justice. He caused vast amounts of destruction and death through his terroristic activities and it is hard if not impossible to argue that he got other than what he deserved.

If a family member or a friend of mine had been killed in the attacks of September 11, 2001 I imagine that I would feel a very justifiable sense of relief or satisfaction over the death of bin Laden even as I would wrestle with the realization that no amount of retribution can bring back my loved one.

For the sake of the families that were devastated by bin Laden’s attacks I am grateful that justice has been done.

For the sake of our country that was so viciously attacked by bin Laden’s minions I am grateful that justice has been done.

As a Christian who tries with God’s help to take seriously not only the witness and words of Jesus Christ but also the very life of Christ that I believe lives in me, I want in my own life to resist and to combat evil in the way of Jesus, a way that he most clearly taught in the Sermon on the Mount and that he most clearly lived out in his death on the cross.

“Offer them the other cheek,” he said.

“Father, forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing,” he said.

That is the way of Jesus. That is the way of the kingdom of heaven. That is the way of the Church. Or at least it is supposed to be.

But it is is not the way of the geo-political reality with which nation states deal; it is naïve and impractical to expect a nation, be it the United States or any other nation, to accept a blow like the one received on 9/11 without striking back. Perhaps we could expect a nation to respond in such a radically gracious way if a nation could actually be “Christian” but, as I have written elsewhere, I do not believe that is possible.

It is a great mystery to me how Almighty God set in motion the ultimate and for all time defeat of all evil and sin through the death of God’s Son on the cross—through the ultimate act of passive resistance—but how the only effective response to evil on the international stage seems to be to respond to violence with violence, to pain with pain, and to death with death—but that appears to be a mystery with which I will just have to live.

It is nonetheless one of the reasons that I don’t feel good even though I know that justice has been done.

America has done what America had to do; I have no doubts about that. My uneasiness comes from my realization of—even my acceptance of—the way the world is and of the way that nations must behave if they are to survive in this world.

I don’t want to rest in such a realization or in such an acceptance, though; I want to pray toward, to love toward, to work toward and to vote toward a world in which retaliatory responses become less and less necessary because the kinds of actions that produce such responses are less and less carried out which means also that I want to pray toward, to love toward, to work toward and to vote toward a world in which we become more and more willing to talk about and to try to do something about the very real problems, differences, and injustices that come between us even as we become more and more willing to accept and to build on the common humanity that binds us.

My uneasiness is compounded considerably by my awareness of the ease with which I could—and all too often do— fall into an acceptance of the ways of the world in my own life and of the intense effort I continually have to make to keep myself from accepting such ways as normative for me in the ways that I deal with those who hurt me for their sake or in the ways that I am willing to hurt others for my sake.

Again, America has done what America had to do. We owe a great debt of thanks to those who work day in and day out to protect us and particularly to those who carried out this act of justice.

But please God, help me; please help me lest I forget that in my life I, who am a follower of Jesus Christ, must think more highly of others than I do myself, that I must seek to serve rather than to be served, that I must care about trying to help the poor more than I care about building wealth, that I must be more interested in being loving than in being right, that I must turn the other cheek rather than retaliate, and that I must love and pray for my enemies.

I do not think that my gratefulness for justice being done to the mass murderer Osama bin Laden is misplaced.

I am also grateful, though, for the warning bell that I hear clanging very loudly in my spirit.

A Holy Week Message to Christian Parents

In 1969 when I was ten years old I played on one of the worst baseball teams in the history of baseball—the Barnesville (GA) Little League Red Sox. We went 1-14 that year, although I am proud to say that our one win came in our next-to-last game of the season and was over the first-place Braves, a loss that cost them the league championship. I can still replay the last two outs in my mind; the Braves had runners on first and second with one out and two consecutive batters hit bouncing balls to our shortstop who threw to our sure-handed third baseman (me) for the force outs that ended the game. Our coaches took us all to the Dari Delite for hamburgers as a reward.

The Vacation Bible School at my home church, Midway Baptist Church located on City Pond Road four miles outside of Barnesville, was scheduled to take place at night one week sometime near the end of Little League season. My good parents, who customarily and habitually forced me to go to church any and every time the doors were opened, left it up to me to decide whether to attend Bible School or to participate in that week’s Red Sox loss. Given the quality of our team, it was not hard for me to choose Jesus over baseball.

In 1970 when I was eleven years old I played on one of the best baseball teams in the Barnesville Little League—the mighty, mighty Mets. We finished in second place because we could not for the life of us beat those pesky guys from Milner who comprised the Cubs but we won way more games than we lost which was a new experience for me. That summer, when the week for Midway’s Vacation Bible School rolled around, I chose baseball over Jesus.



That’s right—I was capable of hypocrisy even as a child!

Both years, my parents went to help at Vacation Bible School.

There was nothing unusual about my parents not being present at my baseball games; in fact, back then, it was not unusual for lots of parents not to be there. I guess our parents had other things to do that were important to them and if they could work in our ball game they would but they did not put our ball games first and everything else second. In fact, my best estimate based on my memory is that in my four years of playing Little League baseball, a span in which I played in some 75 games, my parents may have seen twelve of them.

It’s funny how I don’t remember feeling cheated or slighted in any way.

Things have changed and I think they’ve changed for the better. These days, parents do everything they can to be present at every game played by their children, which is some feat for those families that have two or more children involved in such activities. I think that showing such support to their children is an admirable thing for parents to do.

In the rural community in which I live and work, our Department of Leisure Services (DLS for short; it’s what they call the Recreation Department) not only does not schedule ball games on Sundays but also avoids Wednesday nights. As a pastor I certainly appreciate that, given that our church and other churches have important children’s activities on Wednesday nights, but having said that, I would also add that I would not get my halo in a knot if the DLS one day had to start scheduling games on Wednesdays if they had good reason to do so (too many teams and not enough fields, for example). After all, the DLS provides a great service to our community by providing recreational activities for all the children of our community and by bringing all the segments of our community together—I wish that our church congregations were as diverse as the crowds at DLS ball games. Besides, there is not and should not be an expectation that a government agency will accommodate its work to church schedules.

Still, I’m glad they do.

But they can’t always.

And so it happens that during this Holy Week there will be baseball games played in our community on Good Friday night and it will be the same all over the country. Now, I am not about to propose that parents force their children to skip their ball games that night and go to their church’s Good Friday service although it might be a good thing to at least let their children know that it is an option for them. After all, to be on a team is to have a responsibility to that team and we want to teach responsibility. On the other hand, if a Christian parent’s child says, “Mom and Dad, I really believe that I should to go to the Good Friday service and miss my ball game,” those parents should not only allow it but should praise their child for it.

I do have a suggestion regarding what parents should do, though.

I suggest that Christian parents say something like this to their children:

“You know how much we love you. We love you so much that you are the second most important thing in the world to us. Indeed, the only one that we love more than we love you is Jesus—and we want you to love Jesus more than you love us. One Friday a long time ago, Jesus died on the cross for our sins—for your sins. That’s why once a year the Church observes Good Friday. It is so very important that we stop on Good Friday and worship God for sending Jesus to die on the cross so that we could come to God and be saved. The most loving thing we can do for you is make sure you know how crucial our relationship with Jesus is. You know how much we love going to your ball games. But this one night—this Good Friday night—we are going to take you to your game and leave you there with your team while we go to the church to worship Jesus on the day that he was crucified.”

I hope that Christian parents—and grandparents and other family members—will take my suggestion seriously. Think of the valuable lesson that our children can learn if they come to understand that Jesus really is the most important person to their parents.

I hope, though, that Christian parents will remember that you can participate in a worship service every day of the week but your children will finally know of your devotion to the crucified Christ by the ways that you live your lives both in front of them and in secret every minute of every day.

But it’s up to you to teach the lessons that must be taught and to foster the development of the relationship with Jesus that must be developed.

Our children need to know how important they are.

They also need to know that there is One who is more important.

The Lost Causes of Edmund and Michael Ruffin

At 4:40 a.m. on April 12, 1861 Confederate forces opened fire on Ft. Sumter in Charleston Harbor in South Carolina, thus initiating the first battle of the American Civil War, an internecine conflict that would result in the preservation of the Union at the cost of some 620,000 military deaths plus an unknown number of civilian casualties.

Southern tradition and Ruffin family legend maintain that the first shot on Ft. Sumter was fired by my ancestor Edmund Ruffin, who at the time of the attack was sixty-six years old.

I first heard about Edmund in a fifth grade history lesson during the 1968-69 school year. Our teacher Mrs. Christine Ruffin, who was married to my father’s first cousin, was about to show us a film about the War Between the States when she said, “Mike, you might want to pay close attention to this” and so I did. Soon there appeared on the screen a picture of a steely-eyed man with long gray hair as the narrator informed us that the first shot on Ft. Sumter had been fired by the man in the picture, one Edmund Ruffin.

Edmund was born in Prince George County, Virginia on January 5, 1794. A farmer, he became well known due to his research into and writings about ways to replenish the soil of Virginia that had been ravaged by heavy tobacco farming.

Eventually, though, he became better known as one of the Fire-eaters, a group of Southern radicals who championed secession of the Southern states as the way to preserve slavery and the Southern way of life. Indeed, Edmund Ruffin travelled across the South advocating for secession. His outspoken views made him a hero to many in the South and that popularity is why, according to tradition, he was given the “honor” of firing the first cannon in the initial fusillade against Ft. Sumter.

Integrity compels me to report that while historians agree that Edmund was present at and participated in the attack on Ft. Sumter most maintain that we don’t know who actually fired the first shot. Being a Ruffin, though, I’ll stand by the tradition!

On June 17, 1865, two months after the surrender of General Robert E. Lee to General Ulysses S. Grant, Edmund, faced with economic misfortune, declining health, and the South’s defeat, committed suicide.

It is often said of Edmund Ruffin, then, that he fired both the first and last shots of the Civil War.

In the last words he penned in his diary Edmund said,

I here declare my unmitigated hatred to Yankee rule -- to all political, social and business connection with the Yankees and to the Yankee race. Would that I could impress these sentiments, in their full force, on every living Southerner and bequeath them to every one yet to be born! May such sentiments be held universally in the outraged and down-trodden South, though in silence and stillness, until the now far-distant day shall arrive for just retribution for Yankee usurpation, oppression and atrocious outrages, and for deliverance and vengeance for the now ruined, subjugated and enslaved Southern States!

...And now with my latest writing and utterance, and with what will be near my latest breath, I here repeat and would willingly proclaim my unmitigated hatred to Yankee rule--to all political, social and business connections with Yankees, and the perfidious, malignant and vile Yankee race.

For obvious reasons Edmund is a hero even now to some Southerners; they see in him a true champion of the Lost Cause and a true embodiment of Confederate courage.

As a descendant of his I confess that I don’t regard him as a hero but rather as what he was: a flawed human being who on the one hand had the courage to act on his strongly-held convictions but who on the other hand was driven by a misguided vision—albeit one shared by many, many other Southerners—of the best future of his beloved home region.

I can’t be critical of his misguided zeal, given (a) that I have no way of knowing that I would not have shared it had I lived in his day and time, (b) that I bring no particular honor on myself by my alarming failure to speak out on and to take action concerning the continuing negative legacies, particular in the area of race relations, of the Civil War, and (c) that my own zeal has been misguided plenty of times.

The Lost Cause that Edmund championed was a lost cause because it was a wrong cause; it was on the wrong side of history, of progress, and of justice.

Do I carry in me a legacy of my ancestor Edmund?

Well, sometimes I feel like I champion some lost causes, too, causes that go by names like love, grace, kindness, forgiveness, simplicity, and humility—causes that are obviously much different than the one that Edmund championed. My causes feel like lost causes because so few people seem to have any legitimate and abiding interest in them as a way of life—as the way of eternal life.

Unlike Edmund’s Lost Cause, though, my lost causes are, I have to believe, right causes; they are right because they reflect the teachings and the life, including the crucifixion and resurrection, of Jesus Christ. They are right causes because they build relationships up rather than tear them down and they bring people together rather than drive them apart.

My approach is different than Edmund’s, too; Edmund was a “Fire-eater,” a rabble-rousing provocateur who was willing to use coercion to the point of violence to advance his cause. My methods, I believe, even though I am very zealous for the cause of Christ, should and must reflect the approach of the Prince of Peace on whose life I base my life and on whose death I will base my death; methods like coercion, demagoguery, and violence (including emotional and spiritual violence) must be rejected out of hand while methods characterized by integrity, humility, grace, and trust must be embraced.

Edmund took his life because events did not turn out as he wanted them to turn out; I will live my life, no matter what comes, believing that God is working God’s purposes out.

150 years ago today my ancestor Edmund Ruffin was at the Battle of Ft. Sumter, participating in an armed assault on a badly outmanned garrison.

Today I, Michael Ruffin, continue to participate as a member of the rag-tag army of Jesus Christ that uses unlikely and seemingly ineffective weapons like grace, love, peace, and mercy in God’s mopping-up operation against an already defeated enemy.

Christians Need Rhythm

Some ways of life have a distinctive rhythm.

For example, think of a school. One thing I miss about my former career as a college professor is the rhythm of the school year, a rhythm that is dictated by the academic calendar. The first day of class in the fall semester brings with it the excitement of new beginnings and new challenges; the mid-term brings with it the opportunity for evaluation, reflection, and recommitment, the fall break and the Thanksgiving break bring with them some much-needed rest; final exams bring with them the thrill and anxiety that accompany an ending. The spring semester brings a similar rhythm.

Or think, for another example, of major league baseball. Pitchers and catchers report on a set day in February followed soon by the position players. For a couple of weeks the beginning rituals of workouts and practices take place until around March 1 the first Spring Training games take place. Around the end of March teams break camp and head to the city where they will open their regular season. The All-Star Break marks the mid-point of the season and then comes the trade deadline and the end of the regular season. The post-season, culminating in the World Series, brings a last blast of excitement followed by the inevitable letdown so that as fall gives way to winter we fans are looking toward the day when pitchers and catchers report to Florida and Arizona. Baseball, then, has a rhythm, too—a rhythm dictated by its calendar.

The rhythm of the lives of Americans, such as it is, is dictated by the secular and civic calendars or, to put it perhaps more accurately and honestly, the commercial calendar. We move from New Year’s Day (Parties! Football!) to Valentine’s Day (Love! And be sure to buy something!) to Easter (Bunnies! Egg Hunts! And be sure to buy baskets and candy!) to Independence Day (Fireworks! Cookouts!) to Halloween (Trick or Treat! And be sure to buy lots of candy!) to Thanksgiving (Food! Football! Let the Christmas shopping begin!) to Christmas (Santa Claus! Presents! Let the Christmas bills roll in and the gift returns commence and while you’re returning stuff be sure to buy more stuff!).

Christians are to live a different kind of life; we need to find a rhythm different than that dictated by the calendar of the materialistic, hedonistic, shallow and bordering on insane culture in which we find ourselves. We need rhythm but it needs to be a different kind of rhythm than that which the world gives.

I am utterly convinced that Christians need the rhythm produced by following the Christian calendar.

There are many good reasons for churches to follow the Christian calendar. (Some of my readers will have trouble understanding why I feel a need to make this case, given that they worship in traditions in which following the Christian calendar is a longstanding and accepted practice; the reason is that for most churches in the Baptist tradition in which I worship and serve, as well as in many other churches in the free church and/or evangelical traditions, the practice if not the very concept is foreign.)

One reason that churches should follow the Christian calendar is that the practice reminds us of what our lives are really all about. The Christian year takes us from the anticipation of Advent to the celebration of Christmas to the revelation of Epiphany to the repentance of Lent to the seeming defeat of Good Friday to the stunning victory of Easter to the equipping power of Pentecost to the long stretch after Pentecost that reminds us of the importance of faithfully putting one foot in front of the other and trusting God all the way; our lives, in short, are all about following the way of Jesus.

A second reason that churches should follow the Christian calendar is that the practice provides a framework for the development of a disciplined Christian lifestyle. It offers a constant reminder that our life is a pilgrimage in which we are always following Jesus and learning of and from him and being formed and shaped by him.

A third reason that churches should follow the Christian calendar is that the practice gives us an opportunity to offer a helpful Christian witness to our culture. For example, think of the message we would send if, while those around us are caught up in the frenzy of holiday shopping, we were to embrace the four-week season of Advent through appropriate practices of worship and other spiritual disciplines such as fasting, sharing, and serving. Think of the witness we would offer if, while those around us are suffering from post-holiday letdown and mall fatigue, we were to embrace the twelve-day celebration of Christmas through an appropriate focus through worship and other disciplines on the wonder and mystery of the Incarnation event.

When you put those three reasons together you can, I hope, see the value in giving ourselves over to the rhythm of the Christian year. If our churches will intentionally allow the Christian year to provide the narrative framework for our worship and practice we will over the course of time help those who worship and serve through our churches to develop and live out a helpful Christian rhythm in their daily lives of discipleship (provided that they intentionally embrace the practice).

If we learn to feel and to follow that rhythm in our worship in the sanctuary and in our homes, we will over time begin to feel and to follow it in our service in the world. Imagine how our lives, our churches, and our communities will change if more and more Christians begin to live their lives with the same rhythm with which Jesus Christ lived his--a rhythm of love, grace, mercy, forgiveness, obedience, faithfulness, service, and sacrifice.