Unemployed Theologian

First, a reading from Scripture: ‘When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” “Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my lambs.” Again Jesus said, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He answered, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Take care of my sheep.” The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.” Jesus said, “Feed my sheep. Very truly I tell you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God. Then he said to him, “Follow me!”’ ~  John 21:15-19 “Do you love me?”...

Before we get into this let me provide a disclaimer or two: I'm a Jesus person. I'm a Gospel person. I'm a church person. These are my spiritual, theological convictions, and I do not demand that you share them, but I do ask that you respect them, and maybe even consider them. I'm scared. I'm scared that I might be the problem, or at least a major part of it. I'm scared because I'm not sure whether what I do, the job I perform, is making the world better, or if it is actually undergirding some great evil. The job? I consider myself something of a theologian, or at least a theologian-in-training. By that I mean I interpret and teach Scripture vocationally. I think, speak and write about God. I attend a well-reputed seminary to learn about faith, church, religion and the Divine. And most days I love it. I'm thrilled over the work I’ll get to do in my lifetime: proclaiming the good news of Christ, bringing hope into situations where it’s wantin...

I don’t know if I can say anything meaningful about Good Friday that hasn’t already been said, and better.  A few years ago, for instance, my favorite blogger Rachel Held Evans wrote a series called “ Holy Week for Doubters ,” which speaks poignantly to an element of faith oft unspoken, and one which resonates strongly on Good Friday, that sometimes God feels absent. For at least three days, Jesus lay dead in the ground, and those who loved him felt empty, bereft, hopeless. And being a Christian doesn’t exempt us from experiencing fear or insecurity in the face of life’s senselessness. Sometimes, doubt is the only honest answer to life’s bigger questions. Even I wrote a post two years ago, reflecting on the holiday after spending an afternoon working in a juvenile detention center. On a day set aside to recognize the deep pain in the world, and God’s presence in the midst of it, I sat in a big concrete box with kids who had suffered more in their short years than most of us wi...

I don't walk out on movies. Honest, it's just not my MO. For perspective, I sat through to the end of Rock of Ages . I finished  Bruno  in the theater. I  do not  walk out on movies. That is, until Friday before last, when I encountered a film I could not in good conscience finish, prompting me to leave my group of friends and walk out of the theater. I made it through about two thirds, but at that point was so profoundly disturbed I had to walk out of American Sniper.  Before we go any further allow me to clear something up: American Sniper  is not a bad movie. As a matter of fact, from a technical standpoint it's pretty good (from what I saw). Gritty, poignant, emotionally gripping, smoothly directed, well-acted, not a flop by any means. But I had to leave, because Sniper surfaced in me a host of profoundly confusing, troubling issues, rendering the whole viewing experience alternately painful, numbing and infuriating. For one thing, I remember ...

Is it time to be outraged yet? Are we allowed to be up in arms now? 'Cause I'm mad. I'm damn man. Granted, directionless internet rage is not always the catalyst for change my generation hopes it be. Still, there's something to be said for speaking out, for making use of one's sphere of influence to at least  raise awareness and shed light on issues that aren't getting the attention they deserve. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, as they say. And while my sphere of influence, at least as far as this blog is concerned, is thirty or so people, I find it worthwhile still to shout my hopefully-prophetic calls into the void. You may say I'm a dreamer. But, ya know... So here's the deal: The cherry on top of this awful, pitiful year, of senseless killings, international unrest and racial tension, is the recently-released this Senate report verifying our military's use of torture techniques to acquire enemy intelligence throughout our w...

I don't have a catchy angle for this one, folks. No hook. No pithy observation or witticism to capture your attention. I have only the stomachache that kept me up last night, one prompted by what's going on two-thirds of the way across in the country. In Ferguson, Missouri. Believe me, I'm as surprised as any of you that this whole Ferguson thing is eliciting any thought from me at all. What does it matter to me? For one thing, I live in Oregon. Geographically, Ferguson could not be less on my radar. Additionally, I have had maybe one or two run ins with police in my whole life, none of them significant (traffic ticket, maybe some domestic dispute when I was a kid). Plus, ya know, I've got that whole, white guy thing going. I have a few black friends, but none I've had the opportunity to sit down with and discuss the particulars of this situation. So what's my deal? To be totally honest, on a purely intellectual level I don't actually understand what's ...