c. scott andreas

Here are some questions that I would like to explore:

• What is the Kingdom of God, how does Jesus speak of it, and what are its implications for the past, present, and future?
• What is sin? Is it something limited to individuals, or can communities and nations sin, and what might that mean?
• Similarly, what is salvation and what is redemption? Is “salvation” something more than the forgiveness of sins? Can Christ “save” communities, and what might that look like?
• What might Jesus have meant when He said, “Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven?”
• How might the Church live and love in light of these questions?

I do not know where this journey will take me. But I pray that the Lord might guide me there by His Word and Spirit.

This is the second post in a multi-part series on American History X and the Kingdom of God. Click here to read the first.

In the first post in this series, I offered a brief description of American History X and suggested that it converses with the story of the Kingdom of God in a variety of ways. Here’s one of them.

American History X can be seen as an ideological struggle that manifests itself in real, physical ways. A rhetoric of white power led to violence against racial minorities (primarily blacks and hispanics, both of which were referred to in alternate terms). Perhaps more importantly, however, is the fact that hate breeds hate. Though Derek’s violent speech and actions near the beginning of the film are directed against minorities, he soon found himself screaming at his mother and hitting her, grabbing his little sister by the hair, and shouting down voices of wise authority in his life. It appears that the medium is the message — a rhetoric of hatred is not capable of bringing peace.

Similarly, Paul writes in his letter to the church at Rome that followers of Christ are to “be transformed by the renewing of [their] minds.” He establishes a direct connection between patterns of thought and patterns of behavior. We’re also commanded by Christ to bear fruit as God the Father enables us. Here, a transformation of the spirit through the infusion of new life enters into the world in real, tangible ways.

Living in such a manner has the opposite implications from those we see at the beginning of American History X. Rather than violent speech of power and violence, we find words of humble and love restoring peace and respect to broken families, communities, and nations in the Kingdom. This is a kingdom that does not “force” itself upon those in its proximity, but one to which people are drawn by its fruit.

In the film, Dr. Sweeney, an incredibly wise black high school English teacher has a conversation with Derek (the former neo-Nazi protagonist):

Dr. Sweeney: There was a moment…when I used to blame everything and everyone. For all the pain and suffering and vile things that happened to me that I saw happen to my people. Used to blame everybody. Blamed white people, blamed society, blamed God. I didn’t get no answers ’cause I was asking the wrong questions. You have to ask the right questions.

Derek: Like what?

Dr. Sweeney: Has anything you’ve done made your life better?

Like Paul, Dr. Sweeney suggests that the nature of our minds, attitudes, and motives are directly responsible for the conditions in which we live, our welfare, and the welfare of those around us. It seems that we have an imperative to renew our minds. As we observe this transformation occuring by the work of the Spirit, we’re able to watch the Kingdom breaking into our flesh and the lives of those around us in real, tangible ways that have immediate implications for life today and for eternity.

welcome,

c. scott andreas

I just finished watching American History X with a few friends while molting and eating a bowl of ice cream (quite a Friday night, eh?). Over the next few days, I will be smashing this film and the Kingdom of God together. It’ll be a trip.

I’m not sure that I would recommend it to those who are uncomfortable with intense “adult themes” — it’s certainly not for the faint of heart. But it is a film that conveys an intensely powerful message which I believe we need to hear…whether or not we’ve a swastica tattooed over our heart (as the protagonist, Derek).

For those who have not seen the film or do not wish to, here’s a brief description of the plot:

[ possible spoilers ]

Derek, disillusioned by crime and poverty in his neighborhood, slowly begins to blame ethnic minorities and illegal immigrants for the situation he sees around him. Taking charge of the neighborhood, he forms a white supremacist gang to purify the streets. Hatred bred hatred; Derek began to abuse family members, hitting his mother and sister in short order. After killing two black men who’d attempted to break into his car, he was sentenced to three years in prison.

While away, his younger brother Danny came to idolize him — he sought to replace him in the area’s rising neo-Nazi youth culture. A respected teacher encourages Danny to investigate his brother’s past the night he was released from prison on parole.

Derek attempts to set his brother right, explaining to him the brutal story of transformation that came to define his life while in prison. Near the end of the film, he’s asked to enter back into the problem and begin to set things right, stopping the cycle of violence by confronting those who perpetuate it.

I’ll leave the rest of the tale for your DVD player to tell. Watch the trailer here.

[ /possible spoilers ]

In a few strange, intriguing, and problematic ways, I saw images of the Kingdom and our present reality in this film. If you have the opportunity to watch it and feel comfortable doing so before reading these next few posts, I’d recommend that you take it.

all the best from the pacific northwest,

c. scott andreas

We launched the official Sacred Space site today.  I’ve been writing over there lately, which has come at the cost of content here.

Check it out at http://www.sacredspacepdx.org!

Sacred Space is a city-wide urban renewal project sponsored by Imago Dei in Portland, Oregon. On August 12, nearly one thousand church and community members will partner together to bring new life to fifty spots around the city.

I’ve been tasked with developing the visual identity for this project. So far, this has consisted of a logo, letterhead, business card, DVD cover, and training pak labels.

Most significant, however, is a short promotional video that I wrote with a few others, then shot, edit, packaged, and distributed. Watch it below, or download an iPod Video-compatible version here.

< [iquicktime width="320" height="254" mov="sacredspace-values.mp4" poster="sacredspace-values.png" dir="/media" /]

sacred space 2006 :: click to play

[Middle English exil, from Old French, from Latin exilium,
from exul, exsul, exiled person, wanderer.]

I spent an hour at a Seattle’s Best café inside Borders watching the rain pummel disaffected hoosiers as they scurried about the plaza’s sprawling wet desert of a parking lot.

While drinking a cuppa, I read a couple chapters of McLaren’s A Generous Orthodoxy. I say that not to preface this thought, but to give you an idea of the waters in which I’m teabagging my mind at the moment.

“The church functions best when in exile.”

I should first say that though this statement is a product of my own mind, I don’t think I agree with it. But the nature of this disagreement is rather complex. I’ll explain this in a few articles, but for starters, here are three premises (which you’re free to disagree with).

1. From the time of the ancient Israelites’ slavery under the Egyptians until the oft-suppressed rise of Jewish religion as we know it today, the Jews have largely existed under (or in opposition to) a larger host culture. That is to say, Judaism is essentially a religion of diaspora. Though this group of people has ostensibly existed and on occasion thrived, it has done so without political authority or even respect — often in disfavor and persecution.
2. Christianity in its various forms, as ostensibly the default religion of modernity in the West, has enjoyed almost 1700 years in the sun beginning with the conversion of Constantine in 312 until some time in the last three decades.
3. Today, we find ourselves in a culture that is less likely to accept or understand Christianity or its mythology (in any of it’s “official” 33,830 forms) as implicitly “true.” That is, individuals now must identify themselves as “Christian” and explain what that means — this identity is not simply assumed (or understood). Conscious engagement of biblical narrative (though still very much alive in the poets of our age) is very slowly but gradually fading from popular American discourse.

I often wonder what many Christians mean when they talk about “ministry in a post-modern world.” It seems that many confuse postmodernity with life in a culture that does not implicitly accept “Christianity” (as we’ve built it) as “true.”

We speak a language that has been “Christian” since its emergence as we know it today. Here, I speak of English as a “Christian language” from a diachronic perspective. In other words, English is a Christian language because it has been teabagged in biblical themes, both birthing, communicating, and transforming them.

But though our words and metaphors are steeped in centuries of Biblical myth as a framework for reality, we find ourselves approaching a time in which this myth will become less-understood by and less-accessible to our secular neighbors. As fewer and fewer recall or are subjected to years of flannelgraph indoctrination, we’re left of distillations of Noah’s Ark as “the time when God destroyed the Earth while Noah and his family floated in a boat with all of the animals.” Tales of the apocalypse are not stories of a renewed creation, but “when the earth will be destroyed like in Armageddon but Tom Hanks won’t save us.”

Perhaps the heyday is nearing its apex. For what are we without our language? And who is our God in a language that speaks of him as many speak of the NSA?

As Rob Bell said, should we turn up our noses, purse our lips, and say “People just don’t care about truth any more?” This seems like a logical response…and one that I’ve seen. But is there a better alternative? Can we productively engage it? And what might this look like?

Check back soon for more. I’m enjoying this.
Until then, what do you think?

c. scott andreas

I’m one chapter from finishing a paper/e-book by Tim Bednar about blogging and the participatory church.

Tim describes blogging as a process of spiritual formation in which people can share thoughts, ideas, experiences, and struggles with an online community of faith. People read and respond to one another’s writing, build them up, critique them, and join them in their walk with the Spirit.

He also writes that this is a humble process by which individuals offer their perspectives in an atmosphere that invites discussion - rarely as the last word of a propositional truth that solicits only an “Amen!” but instead initiates a conversation among fellow pilgrims.

I’m not sure what form or direction this thought will take. I expect that it will be met with the same discomfort I feel toward it. I also hope that it will be met with the same beautiful hope and potential that I find in it. Such beautiful tension.

As I read Tim’s article, I began to realize that many of my ramblings advocate a position on somewhat unconceding ground. But I’m coming to realize something that I’ve been saying all along. There is a great amount of diversity within the church. And that is an excellent thing. Just as one may be called to share the Gospel in Japan, so another might be called to live their life on a perpetually missional journey. While some might devote significant energy toward environmental sustainability and ecological healing, others might toil to produce an apologetic defense of certain theological positions.

And just because I declare that “something must be done” (see my Uganda post below) does not mean that everyone must do it. It means I believe that some should. And if that “some” is a closed set that begins and ends with me alone, then perhaps that’s fine, too; I’ll share what I have to offer. I’m not here to tell you what to do. And it’s certainly not my place to tell you what to think.

What’s “true” for me may not be true in the same manner or degree that it is “true” for you. And vice versa.

I’m using the word “true” a little differently here…not to indicate an absolute, but to describe truth as resurrection life as experienced by one individual. For instance, I could say something like this:

Steak-n-Shake’s Fried Chicken Salad is the best dinner under $6 on Earth!

I know quite a few people who would quite quickly line up to nail 95 theses to my door concerning the grave heresy that I do not acknowledge the Frisco Melt to be the world’s greatest sandwich. Or maybe even something from Taco Bell (gasp!). Arguing either point constitutes a failure to recognize that this amazing salad is one of many great-tasting cheap (albeit un-nutritious) meals available to you.

When I say this, I mean to highlight the beautiful diversity that flares forth within God’s church. It is by no means a statement of moral relativism and I do not intend it to be. That’s a strong statement and a popular epithet; perhaps it should be wielded with care against only that which warrants it. Like the word “terrorist” (but I’m rambling). Instead of being a relativist statement, it is a celebration of the fact that the catholic church is not a monoculture. Tim notes that there are at least 33,830 Christian denominations. Which one is the “true” church? Are all the others completely “false”? Perhaps Truth is all over the place and can be redeemed anywhere it lies. (This is also the case for falsehood; a minefield, it’s not easy and none of us are exempt). As Rob Bell said, “Why should this surprise us?”

Though I believe it is terribly important to work toward living a sustainable lifestyle of minimal consumption and waste, you may find no higher calling than rationally responding to skeptical inquiry. I may never write a systematic theology (and there are so many of these) and you may never give up your SUV. But at the same time, we can encourage one another to experience our life with Jesus Christ as others do. So I might read a little Strobel, McDowell, and Grudem and subscribe to Ravi Zacharias’ podcast, and you might recycle a bottle or three.

And we’re all better for having shared these perspectives. Doing so allows us to experience, understand, and know Christ in a way we might not have considered before.

So please forgive me for asserting certain positions in absolutist terms. That’s not my desire; I’ll leave it to someone more qualified than myself, as a mere student and amateur writer. But what I do hope to initiate is a conversation about these ideas. How true are they? If, as in this case, truth is a value between zero and one rather than either zero or one, we’ve much truth to celebrate. And much falsehood to discard. We all experience Christ in different ways, all of which unite in Him. How do you experience this resurrection life? I’d love to hear.

This is not to say that there are no elements that are “absolutely True.” I certainly believe that there are; Christ proclaimed Himself the Way, the Truth, and the Life. The purpose of this post is to help me consider which things are absolutely True and that which I merely call true. This seems like a worthwhile task.

So let us purify Truth while redeeming and celebrating what is true. And let us cast off what is false.

This celebration of unity and diversity is the hope of postmodernity as I understand it. It’s not all “existential desert.”

Though I cannot dance, there’s a lot of dancing to be done.

- c. scott andreas