I'll Have the Truth, Please, With a Side of Reason

For those of you who've yet to encounter it, there's a new trend within Christianity called the "emergent church" movement. I think its intentions are well-meaning enough: change the way people, especially non-Christians, look at church. Evaluate our culture and use it to reach out to those who would never in a million years consider Jesus if doing so necessitated wearing a suit or pantyhose on Sunday morning.

Fine with me. There's nothing wrong with changing some things about church. Nothing wrong with contemporizing the trappings of a service -- the music, the look of the space, the order of things. Nobody who's a genuine follower of Christ has any reason to complain about that. I, for one, like being able to roll into church on Sunday morning in my jeans and flip-flops, with a latte in my hand. I like attending an Easter sunrise service on the beach. I like that I never see my pastor in a necktie (furthermore, I like that he surfs and collects vintage denim). I like hearing a conga drum in the worship band. I like that nobody's telling me whether or when to stand up or sit down or raise my hands in ecstasy or adopt a somber countenance during the music.

There are lots of people out there who, like me, were not raised in the church. I understand why somebody wouldn't be comfortable in a traditional worship setting; I'm not always a fan of the full formal gig myself, to be honest. If you weren't raised in the tradition, chances are you won't feel the same loving affinity for it as those who were.

But church is not, and never has been, about what you wear or where you sit or when during the service you take communion. The Church -- capital "C" -- is just another name, like the "Body of Christ," for the worldwide group of people who believe in the message of the gospel. A church -- lowercase "c" -- is the gathering of a local group of people who belong to that larger group of people.

There are apparently two "emergent" camps. The first is composed of those who want to change the trappings of church -- to empty the church of cookie-cutter ritual, reignite in the believer a sense of God's powerful mystery, and get rid of meaningless "Christianese" terminology that has become a cultural and communicative barrier to many non-Christians in this jaded generation. When that's done properly, I'm all for it.

Granted, there's a certain silliness to the method when it's taken too far. At a recent youth ministry conference here in Southern California, one "emergent" proponent spoke proudly of how his "community" (they don't even want to use the word "church") meets "not on a schedule, but on a rhythm" of every 6 to 8 weeks or so, at random places. "I don't know where or when until I get the e-mail," the spiritual-leader-don't-call-me-pastor said, chuckling as he noted that he'd missed the last one because he somehow hadn't been told where and when it was to occur. Personally, I fail to see how not applying for 501(c)(3) non-profit status will give you more credibility in the eyes of the people you allegedly want to reach, but if you think that's really going to work, then by all means give it a try.

The movement is credible and valuable when it seeks to shift perception while maintaining the core elements of the faith. Far more disturbing to me, however, is the camp full of those who want to change the trappings AND the message. A representative of this second camp spoke condescendingly of the first: "We need to change our message because our theology needs to continue to evolve."

When it comes to "evolving our theology," we have to ask on whose authority that mandate has presented itself. The gospel is a hard message, a hard truth...but the idea is that it IS the truth. And once you get away from that, once you change the message, it's no longer capital-C Church, or even Christianity. It's about how you can have the best possible experience that will fulfill you and make you happy and comfortable. And experience becomes your god. It's the Church of the Pretty Candles and Non-Offensive Buzzwords. It's the Church of the Culturally Hip. And ultimately, it is the Church of Me.

The message is insidious: "Don't worry about what your so-called 'better judgment' might tell you about the truths of the Bible."

Postmodernists often try to remove the concept of truth from the discussion. When you get down to the nitty-gritty elements of the Christian faith (what we like to call "essential doctrine"), what do the "change the message" proponents say? Let's take the concept of absolute truth as an example -- this is at the very core of classical Christianity (and what's more, at the very core of reason). When asked whether the deity of Christ was an absolute truth, one speaker said, "No -- my community believes in it, but another one might not, and that's okay." And there it goes; the concept of truth becomes relative, despite all evidence to the contrary.

According to that mindset, one can never claim something is better, right or true -- only different. The problem is, it's impossible to live your life that way. The words they use indicate, on the surface, that there's no value judgment, but they imply, by way of manipulative emotional appeals, that the old way, the "modern" or "traditional" way, is inferior. Without coming right out and making the accusation fairly and honestly, they judge us to be "judgmental." Postmodern relativists do the very thing of which they accuse the moderns...but when you call them on it, they say, "Why are you judging and arguing? We don't judge and argue. We don't say our way is right, so stop saying your way is right."

How do you argue, or even come to an agreement, with someone who believes that 2 plus 2 might equal chicken? No meaningful discussion can be had, and that's just what they want.

Anyway, if you're interested in learning a little more about this "emergent church" phenomenon, Amy has written an excellent critique of a book by one of the influential leaders of the movement (who appears to be leading the charge of the "change the message" camp). If you're a Christian, I encourage you to read Amy's review and familiarize yourself with the vocabulary of the postmodern movement and the faux logic of relativism.

(And if you're not a Christian, but you somehow find yourself still reading and thinking to yourself that I must be insane, or worse, please accept my apologies for the murky depths of this entry -- I promise I'll be funnier tomorrow.)

A word to the wise: seek the truth of God, conform the desires of your heart to His, but keep your thinking cap squarely fitted to your head. If you really want to be like Jesus, you'll follow HIS heart, with your heart and your head working together in search of the truth that transforms lives. Beware any church that quotes more from the Matrix movies than from the Bible. Beware any church that proclaims itself "relevant." If the ultimate revelation of God Himself, in the person of Jesus Christ, isn't relevant enough for you...all the pretty candles and non-offensive buzzwords in the world aren't going to solve your biggest problem.

And the Winner Is...

The aforementioned New Deal Studios website won the prestigious "Site of the Day" award today from Macromedia (makers of Flash). Pretty nifty, eh?

We're trying not to break our arms patting ourselves on the back, but seriously, we're very proud. A hearty "good job" shout-out to my homies here at NDS! And, of course, to our Web designer, who is no doubt thrilled to finally be rid of us.

Now it's not just sci-fi nerds looking at us...we've got the Web design nerds, too!

Ladies and Gentlemen, New Deal Studios!

You might know where I work, but have you seen what we do?

I am elated to announce that after the longest, most painful and oft-"deprioritized" design phase in the history of the Web, we have finally launched (insert Hallelujah Chorus here) the New Deal Studios website!

Five excellent reasons to check it out:

1. You just can't get enough of my writing.
2. Film buff? Fanboy? Sci-fi geek? Like blowin' stuff up? Lots of pretty pictures for you to see in the "Gallery" section.
3. The "Frequently Asked Questions" (FAQ) section includes some "Not So Frequently Asked Questions" (NSFAQ). Try the "Employment" and "Internship" links on the FAQ page....
4. Treasure hunt! Find Jenny in five of the seven "Crew Photos" in the "Fun" section (and no, I know it looks weird, but that is not my own arm behind my head).
5. For the love of all that is holy, we've been working on this *&$^%#@ thing for two years now, and I want SOMEBODY to see it.

I warn you, it's a pretty image-heavy site, so if your bandwidth sucks then you might not fully experience the magic that is the New Deal Studios Website Experience. But if you got the highspeed hookup and you're down with Flash, enjoy:

http://www.newdealstudios.com

Whaddayathink? Whaddayathink? Cool, huh?

Apologies in Advance

Slow news day. Apparently, Americans are eating record amounts of cheese.

Why? It's gouda for you. For one thing, it'll gruyere kids up to be big and strong!

So when the little muensters complain about those big slices of calcium-rich, Atkins-approved goodness in their lunchboxes, you just say, "Listen here, Jack -- you'd better enjoy the privilege of even HAVING those pre-packaged wonders! There are starving curd children in this world who'd appreciate those slices and edam up quick."

And if that doesn't work, try the creative approach -- if your kids javarti or Kraft-y tendencies, reward the most creative use of cheese in a sculpture. Have them build a cottage! Or a car! (May we suggest a late-model chevre-let?) Take points away for use of non-cheese items in the artwork; cheddars never prosper, after all.

Desperate Hope vs. The Immovable Object

Have you ever longed for something so much -- even something that means work and sacrifice -- that it's all you can do to function in your daily life without obsessively thinking about it? And maybe there's just one stupid, seemingly insurmountable factor in your way. One lousy thing between you and the fulfillment of this dream that you're certain will be joyous and worthwhile and possibly lifechanging. And you spend moments of contemplation squeezing every last creative solution out of your mind in an attempt to get around that one obstacle...still, nothing you can do to change things. Have you ever experienced that?

Indescribable, the level of frustration I am feeling right now. What could be keeping the last piece of the puzzle from falling into place?

The months crawl by, and despite my best efforts, I'm still bound by circumstance. Somewhere out there, he is waiting for me to make a place for him in my life.

Lightning Bolt! Lightning Bolt!

Yes, I wear my geekiness on my sleeve. Admittedly, I've done some rather silly and potentially embarrassing things. But at what point do you just throw all better judgment to the wind, and...? Well, turn up the sound on your computer and join me in a rousing chorus of "That'll Never Be Me."

I feel a catchphrase coming on....

Photophobes

My boss's aunt came to visit the shop today, and she felt compelled to take pictures of every little thing she saw. Even me, sitting in my darkened corner of the office.

Amusing, that she wanted such a photographic record of someone she just met today. She noted the irony of everyone here being so camera shy when we work in the film business. "That's why we work on THIS side of things," we told her.

Now, I normally don't mind having my picture taken, if it's a candid shot. Posed photos are a different matter. You know they're coming. You obsess on having to smile, to stand or sit unnaturally in that nearly eternal moment of waiting for the framing/focus/flash. Is there spinach in my teeth? Is my skin freakishly shiny? At the angle I'm standing, will this shirt make me look enormous? Why did I wear this color today? If I knew it was going to take this long, I would have at least run a brush through my hair...*CLICK* ohhhh, crap. I think I blinked. Or maybe, if I'm lucky, my eyelids will be half open, and I'll simply look drunk. Fabulous.

Better still are the photos of The Giant White Hand. You know the Hand -- the Hand likes to come out at Christmas time and other early-morning holidays and occasions where mom's not quite dressed suitably for a Kodak moment. The Hand is like another member of my family; always ready to jump into the picture, always in the foreground.

My favorite photo of The Giant White Hand? Giant White Hand With Super Long Nails, just barely obscuring Mom in her red robe and 5:00a.m. Christmas Morning Hair. The scowl is barely visible and the profanities best left to the imagination.

Things I've Learned from Lyle Lovett

An evening at the Hollywood Bowl brings enlightenment. Today's lesson, courtesy of Lyle Lovett:

1. It's okay to love your truck.
2. Cowboys can make even Irish music sound like it came from Texas.
3. The world's homeliest man, when he picks up a guitar (piano/mandolin/cello/fiddle/triangle/whatEVER) and sings to me, becomes the world's most attractive man.

Seriously, Nebraska, Here I Come

It took me one hour and fifteen minutes to get to church this morning. I live four miles away.

It was like an hourlong cycle of road rage and road repentance.

Things That Make Me Want to Move to Nebraska

It took me thirty minutes to get to work this morning. I live three miles away.

I'm thinking it's time to find a wealthy benefactor to finance my work-from-home-as-an-otherwise-starving-creative-writer plan. This is a good plan. And there may just be something in it for you!

Let's say that you're:
A.) a wealthy benefactor, and
B.) an upstanding gentleman and God-fearing individual between the ages of, say, 29 and 35, looking for a creative and comedic wife who will happily stay at home writing and cooking and exercising and taking care of dogs and kids and whatever other animals or humans happen by the house during the day.

Clearly, the benefits for you in this scenario are legion: wife, kids, dogs, food (did I mention the cookies?), comedy. Also, I could write a best seller or a million dollar screenplay, and you could become an even WEALTHIER benefactor. We like this plan, no?

No? Okay, let's say that you're:
A.) a wealthy benefactor, and
B.) not at all interested in any romantic entanglements, real or imagined.

Just want to give me money? I'm fine with that, too. You still have the potential to become the aforementioned even wealthier benefactor. Also, I would talk you up to everyone -- EVERYONE -- as the most generous, philanthropic person I know. Your good name would become an even better name. I hear that's valuable, in the benefactor world.

Also, I understand that Los Angeles is a little pricey, even for a wealthy benefactor. If you would prefer to move me to Nebraska, it would definitely take some adjustment, but I think I could get used to it. It might even help me to focus more on the writing, not having any friends or family in the immediate vicinity to serve as distractions. Maybe I could write vast epic poems about cows, or wheat. I'm just sayin' I'm open to change, is all.

So, I'm ready to embark on this little adventure. Any takers out there? Anyone? Anyone?

Pondering the Slippery Slope

I've been in a contemplative mood this weekend, and thinking a lot about this quote my pastor used in a sermon several weeks ago. It won't leave me. I've already shared it with a few dear friends; maybe you'll benefit from it too:

"People do not drift toward holiness. Apart from grace-driven effort, people do not gravitate toward godliness, prayer, obedience to Scripture, faith, and delight in the Lord. We drift toward compromise and call it tolerance; we drift toward disobedience and call it freedom; we drift toward superstition and call it faith. We cherish the indiscipline of lost self-control and call it relaxation; we slouch toward prayerlessness and delude ourselves into thinking we have escaped legalism; we slide toward godlessness and convince ourselves we have been liberated." -- D.A. Carson, "Reflections" (Christianity Today, 7/31/00)

I know some of you out there don't believe the same things I believe. And I don't know what your preconceived notions are about Christians, or about Christ. But let me assure you, no matter what you may think about the silliness of "Christian culture" or the attitude of those who would tell you that a simple "yes, I believe in Jesus" is a panacea for life's many ills...there's more to it than that.

A genuine life of faith is nothing to be taken lightly. So-called shortcuts and glittering alternatives do nothing to move you closer to deep peace and profound joy. Likewise, an incidental and compartmentalized faith will not bring your purpose, your desires or your usefulness into sharper focus or to completion. God will not do it for you just because you believe in Him. A genuine life of faith requires attention and perseverance, discipline and sacrifice.

Nothing to Do This Weekend?

WAYS TO USE YOUR TELEPORTATION POWERS FOR THE GOOD OF HUMANITY

Teleport to the local elementary school and kick the crap out of schoolyard bullies

Teleport old ladies across the street

Teleport to the store, buy groceries, teleport to a random person's house in the middle of the afternoon when no one's home, fire up the oven, leave behind a pile of chocolate chip goodness, that fresh-baked cookie smell and a charming handwritten note of encouragement

Teleport cats out of tall trees (bring leather gloves)

Teleport crazy enviroactivists out of tall trees (bring synthetic leather gloves)

Grandma feeling a little down? Teleport her to Vegas!

Become an organ transplant courier

Teleport to Alanis Morrissette's performance venue on every stop of her North American tour, remove all the sound equipment just before each concert begins, leave behind a professionally printed manifesto regarding the proper use of irony

Grab some co-workers by the hand and beat the traffic on Teleportpool Tuesdays

Save lives this Friday night -- be your group's designated teleporter

An Oldie but a Goodie

For those of you who missed it when it was on McSweeneys.net back in April:

ICE CREAM FLAVORS AT THE NAJAF BASKIN-ROBBINS

Donald Rumraisin
Dubya Dutch Chocolate
Freedom Vanilla
Iraqi Road
Pumpkin Occu-Pie
Camel Pecan
Chocolate of Mass Destruction
Fallujah Almond Fudge
German Chocolate Indifference
Peanut Butter 'n' Snipers
Pralines & Regime
Osama Mint Laden

Fall is in the Air

So I was waiting for my turkey burger at lunch today, when I spied on the counter at Fatburger a bunch of free "2004 Southern California Football Guide" brochures. And it began.

It's Fall. It may be only September first, not yet even Labor Day, and still a blindingly sunny 100 degrees in some parts of Southern California, but it is FALL. I picked up the football guide -- with a photo of Pete Carroll right there on the front, holding aloft his "national championship" trophy -- and casually flipped through it, scanning the schedules and commentaries and ads. And there it was. I felt it. That slight, barely perceptible, eensy-weensy rise in blood pressure that occurs just about this time of year, at my first notice of the cardinal and gold.

Now, you people know I don't deeply care about sports. I follow virtually no professional sports teams or events, and the Olympics barely held my attention long enough to get me to cheer for Michael Phelps and express my righteous indignation at the federation's "Please surrender the gold medal we gave you because we screwed up" letter to Paul Hamm. But when it comes to USC....

My apologies, first of all, for any of you out there who may be Trojans. If you even know about the existence of this humble weblog, that means I either already love you OR you are an associate of someone I already love. I respect that USC has a fine entrepreneur program and a fine film school. I realize that I work for someone who has a degree from USC. I know there are fine upstanding Christian apologists who teach there. I understand that there are probably just as many individual jackass Bruins as Trojans out there (well...almost as many). So please, please, PLEASE don't take it personally when I say that I hate you people.

Will the Trojans once again stomp the crap out of their gridiron opponents this season? Probably. Will they beat us again? Maybe. Will I use words on December 4th that I would not use in front of my pastor? Definitely. Will I be repentant in church on December 5th? Depends -- did we win?

Does any of this really matter? Not at all, in the grand scheme of things.

But I can't help it. I have four years of investment in the (solid gold sound of the) UCLA Bruin Marching Band. I have been (okay, voluntarily) brainwashed, and I would violently rail against the Trojans regardless of the event. Football. Basketball. Women's lacrosse. A pie-eating contest for charity. It just doesn't matter. Seriously, were there some Midwestern holiday bowl game starring the Trojans vs. the Al Qaeda All-Stars, I would have a serious moral dilemma on my hands. They just rile me up.

Why? For one thing, there's the 400-year-old man in his moth-eaten 'SC varsity sweater who starts shuffling from his side of the stadium an hour before kickoff just so that by about the third quarter, he can cross in front of the UCLA band (within beatin' range of the drummers, I might add, who are best described as criminally insane on a good day), taunting them with his wheezy cackling laugh and his obnoxious, arthritic "V-for-victory" sign, which he vainly attempts to time to the sloppy, ear-violating brilliance of the Trojan "band" as they blatt and shriek their way through the thousandth playing of their three-note fight song.

But I digress.

It's Fall. I love Fall. Bring it on, '$c.