Trojan horse?

In trying to get a read on the controversy surrounding President Obama’s scheduled speech to public school kids next Tuesday, I’m left more than a little confused. From what I gather, the speech is supposed to be about the importance of education and staying in school — seemingly pretty innocuous stuff, right? But we’re hearing all these reports of people fearing that Obama has an underlying intent to “brainwash” kids with a “socialist message”.

Granted, I generally support Obama and I also don’t have kids, so thinking about this requires an extra degree of objectivity for me. But I think if I had school-aged kids and George W. Bush, for argument’s sake, was still in office and planning to give a speech to my kids about education (and assuming he hadn’t announced plans to also discuss the merits of, say, torture or preemptive war doctrine in his speech), I really think I’d be okay with it. Although I disagreed with many of Bush’s policies, I don’t believe he was, or is, an evil man. Similarly, I assume that most conservatives employ sufficient acumen to disagree with Barack Obama — even passionately — without assigning him the title of “evil”, “antichrist”, “socialist”, etc.

Barring some sort of dark, elaborate conspiracy by the White House to use a speech on education as a trojan horse to convert American kids into Nazis, I think when Tuesday comes, most of us will be wondering why such a big deal was made of this.

“Let’s Disagree Over Things that are Real.”

So we all don’t agree on health-care, or “Obamacare” as it’s become pejoratively known. That’s fine. But it is too much to ask for those who dissent to do so peaceably and legitimately? Over the past several weeks, my RSS has been barraged with reports of some of the more desperate measures being taken by conservative activists to thwart progress on the health-care front — ranging from Sarah Palin’s ludicrous insinuation of an Obama “death panel” denying coverage to seniors and mentally disabled children, to the “regular Americans” protesting violently at town hall meetings who turned out to be a part of a Republican PR campaign. There have been claims that health-care reform will include abortion funding, kill grandmothers, and place us on a highway to socialism. Some have gone so far as to compare Obama to Hitler.

It’s a shame because there’s potential for some really productive dialogue here, but every half-truth and intentional distortion propagated by those like Sarah Palin, Sean Hannity, Bill O’Reilly, etc. is a self-inflicted blow to the credibility of the conservative perspective of this discussion (which does in fact have some legitimate points to consider). Their argument that health-care reform needs to be considered more carefully is lent a distinct irony by these decidedly careless statements.

President Obama seemed to clear the air a bit in his town hall meeting in Portsmouth yesterday, in which he seemed specifically intent on fielding questions from skeptics. This is the kind of dialogue we need — legitimate concerns being raised, an acknowledgement of the legitimacy of the concerns, and clear, straightforward answers.

Yes, health-care reform is a weighty proposition with major implications; it should be considered with utmost discretion and thoroughness of consideration. It is for this reason that we should be vigilant in making sure we’re receiving news and commentary from legitimate sources, and keeping any arguments within the realm of reality. As the President said yesterday, “Where we do disagree, let’s disagree over things that are real, not these wild misrepresentations that bear no resemblance to anything that’s actually been proposed.”

Book review: “Religion Saves”

I first heard of Mark Driscoll in Donald Miller’s book Blue Like Jazz. (Miller playfully referred to him as “Mark the Cussing Pastor”.) While I hear he’s toned his language down a bit, Driscoll is still a famously outspoken and controversial pastor and author. His church, Mars Hill, is a “theologically conservative and culturally liberal” congregation in Seattle. Driscoll also co-founded the Acts 29 Network, a church-planting group.

When I heard through our blog friend Kate McDonald that LitFuse Publicity Group was doing a “blog tour” of Driscoll’s new book Religion Saves: And Nine Other Misconceptions, I decided to hop on board. I love reading and exchanging thoughts on books, and I figured this would be a fun way to share my thoughts, and to find out a little more about Driscoll.

Religion Saves is essentially a series of loosely related sermons in written format. Driscoll tackles nine of the most frequent questions asked by Christians today — ranging from predestination to birth control to the emerging church — and devotes one chapter of the book to answering (or at least providing insights to) each question. While he ties the nine questions together with the theme of the misconception that “religion saves”, the chapters obviously cover a wide range of topics and could easily be read independently of one another.

Before we dig in, I have to say that I had a hard time writing this review. To begin with, the book’s configuration as a series of mini-expositions on various topics makes it difficult to discuss as a whole. (As such, I’ll attempt to reflect briefly on each chapter.) Secondly, I have mixed opinions of Driscoll and his views; I found much to heartily agree with and much to humbly disagree with in this book. And thirdly, I don’t claim expertise on any of these topics, so I share my thoughts with that disclaimer.

•••

Question 9: Birth control. Extremely helpful as an introduction to the different kinds of birth control, and their implications for the Christian belief in human life’s sanctity. I think Driscoll employs unflinching directness and gracious tolerance where each is appropriate.

Question 8: Humor. Easily (and fittingly) the funniest chapter in the book. Driscoll is a master of understatement and witty sarcasm, as evidenced by his indiscriminate jabs. (Nobody is exempt; he makes fun of liberal environmentalists, redneck NASCAR fans, goody two-shoed homeschoolers, and guys with bad breath.) He also draws interesting insights on humor in the Bible, and its place in the Christian life and even the pulpit. I agree with Driscoll in that given our common state as sinners, we all need to take ourselves less seriously and learn to laugh at each other’s (and our own) shortcomings.

Question 7: Predestination. Essentially a defense of Calvinist/Reformed theology, with surprising generosity toward Arminians. A useful introduction, but I still remain unconvinced of either “side” of this issue as an essential Christian doctrine. I believe both in God’s foreknowledge of who will be saved, and in our free will in either accepting or rejecting Him. I only consider this a contradiction in the sense that the coexistence of predestination and free will is too large and complex an idea for me to get my mind around. The presence of both entities in Scripture and in my personal experience makes possible my faith that God’s design is cosmically perfect in its inclusion of both, however imperfect my understanding of it makes it seem.

Question 6: Grace. Driscoll presents this as the most difficult Christian doctrine for him to accept. (I’m the same way; the idea of a perfect God extending grace to a people who are chronically ungrateful for it is beyond me.) It’s a beautiful discussion of the word “grace” itself, as Driscoll highlights the multitude of different types of grace that God sends our way. If we ever erroneously perceive grace only as God’s initial forgiveness of our sin, Driscoll helps us to see that this is only one of many heaps of undeserved blessings for every stage of life and faith.

Question 5: Sexual Sin. A hard look at the perversion of sex that characterizes our culture. While he doesn’t mince words about the sinfulness of some of our practices, Driscoll spends considerable time on the psychology, and even spirituality, of sex. He sheds light on the root problem of sin that causes sexaul perversion, as opposed to reverting to the near-hysterical rebuking and callous judgement typical of many Christian leaders when discussing sexual sin. There are worthwhile insights to be found here, ones I hadn’t previously considered.

Question 4: Faith and Works. In addressing the delicate interplay of faith, works, and salvation, Driscoll echoes J. I. Packer’s discussion of the doctrine of regeneration — that is, we are saved not by good works, but for good works. In this light, it makes even more sense that you can’t have one without the other.

Question 3: Dating. I’m married, so pshh, I don’t need to read this. (Teachable heart fail.) I actually learned a lot from this chapter. The history Driscoll provides on dating/courtship over the last hundred years is helpful. When we hear grievances against the dating practices of “these young people nowadays”, it’s usually from older folks who wish things could be like they uesd to. Driscoll’s relative youth might remove suspicion of generational arrogance as he implores his fellow young people to date wisely. He’s old-fashioned on this topic, and I’m with him. (Yes, the male should pursue the female. Yes, he should be clear in stating his intentions to her.) He also mentions the opposite dangers of legalism and free license in the context of dating, which is helpful as well.

Question 2: The Emerging Church. This was the chapter I was most intrigued to read. Turns out it’s one of the most helpful conservative perspectives on the emerging church I’ve come across. Namely, it’s even-handed and fair — dispensing praise and deep concern where each is due. Because of Driscoll’s previous involvement with emergent leaders like Doug Pagitt and Brian McLaren in the 1990’s, we can infer that he has enough personal experience to draw informed conclusions. His commentary is well-researched and organized, and especially helpful in its differentiation between missional/house churches and emerging churches.

Question 1: The Regulative Principle. I had no idea what the regulative principle was until I read this chapter. Turns out its about worship — specifically, Driscoll says, about “how we should worship the God of the Bible”. He introduces us to two prevailing schools of thought regarding Christian worship: the “green light” normative principle (“worship services must include all the elements that Scripture commands and may include others so long as Scripture does not prohibit them”) and the “red light” regulative principle (“worship services must include all the elements that Scripture commands or that are a good and necessary implication of a biblical text, but nothing more”), and discusses the strengths and weaknesses of each. He tells us a little about how his church, Mars Hill, worships — specifically their urban location, missional philosophy, inclusion of technology and social media in their services, and value placed on faithfulness to Scripture. He closes the chapter with a plea for unity in this area, recognizing that whichever of the camps you’re in is less important than doing what the Bible says, and not doing what it prohibits.

•••

Driscoll’s style and general point of view are unique, hard to categorize, and will probably offend just about everybody at some point or another. Conservative evangelicals won’t like his cynical jabs at Christian subculture; progressives and emergents won’t like his traditional Calvinist leanings or inerrant view of Scripture. He writes provocatively and to-the-point, which is refreshing in a sense; there are no trite, churchy clichés to be found here. His tone could be percieved as flippant or self-righteous if not for his frequent admission of his own sin. This is also refreshing, and lends legitimacy-bolstering sincerity to many of his arguments.

My main gripe about this book is its general ambience. We’re all familiar with the comparison of human brain types: left vs. right, objective vs. subjective, rational vs. creative. I would assert that engaging both types is useful and beneficial to Christian faith, and particularly Christian instruction. After all, what good is knowing doctrine without allowing yourself to be moved by it? Conversely, what good is the emotional awareness of a Higher Being without knowing anything about Him? Thinking about Religion Saves in this context makes me realize it is a very left-brained book. It’s full of propositions and assertions to be accepted or rejected. The goal seems to be to educate and persuade, not necessarily to stir or inspire. If both left- and right-brained approaches are worthwhile, the latter is noticeably and regrettably absent. While I think Driscoll makes some good points, I can’t say that this book was a particularly enjoyable read. I just didn’t find his writing style particularly engaging; at times it felt a bit like reading a textbook.

Admittedly, I may be asking the unreasonable; I’m not exactly sure what a right-brained approach to this book would look like, given its stated intent to address specific questions in an organized and systematic way. It is what it is. Your satisfaction with the things you learn or experience in this book will depend on your expectations. If you’re looking for a page-turner or something to appreciate for its literary value, this wouldn’t be my first choice. But I think anyone wishing simply to learn more about these specific topics will find this book helpful.

* Be sure to read other people’s reactions to Religion Saves on the blog tour at LitFuse!

God shed His grace on thee

On this day 233 years ago, we told England we’d had enough. I think it’s cool that we’re generally friends with the British now, but I like thinking about how back in the day, we pretty much told them to take their colonial governance and shove it.

I can imagine Thomas Jefferson and his homeboys drafting and signing the Declaration of Independence, surely anticipating the reaction when they FedEx’d it over to England. (“Dude, King George is gonna be pissed.”) The document’s title alone — “Declaration of Independence” — is so brazenly audacious that it’s almost kind of funny. Like, it’s not as if they asked permission to be independent. They just declared it — like it was already a known fact. Like, “Hey England, the sky is blue, cows make milk, dogs bark, and also, you’re not in charge of us anymore.”

Independence Day — such a fitting name. The idea of being on our own, answering to no absolute human authority, but deciding how we will govern ourselves, or if we will govern ourselves at all. Barack Obama is our leader, not because his daddy handed him the reins, or because he took authority by force, but because we chose him to be our leader. If in four years we decide we don’t like him anymore, we can choose somebody else. How incredible is that?

I’m not very patriotic; I don’t think the United States is “the greatest nation on earth”, nor do I believe we have some special VIP deal with God where He’s on America’s side no matter what we get ourselves into. I can’t stand those “JesUSAves” bumper stickers. And I don’t believe America is some irrefutable beacon of truth and democracy that will never be extinguished.

But I will say I think ours is a great country, and I am dang grateful to have been born here. Yes, I’ll protest where I think our country is doing wrong, but it’s actually in my protest that I testify to just one of it’s brilliant virtues — free speech. And that’s just one virtue. My ability to fight a traffic ticket, travel freely across state and international borders, protest our elected officials and vote for new ones, earn a decent living, drive on orderly and safe roads (except of course the Capital Beltway), worship Jesus and talk openly about him to others — these are things I take for granted on a daily basis, and I forget too often that many people in our world (most, in fact) don’t enjoy these liberties.

So here’s to all those intrepid souls who founded this country and had the foresight to form a governing system that serves the people, not controlls or smothers them. We’re far from perfect, and we’ll never be perfect, but we have much – much — to be thankful for.

Happy Fourth!

Unimaginable.

I’ve been hearing the news about the riots in Tehran over Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s reelection over the past few days, but recently seeing some photographs of the protests has invited a little more personal reflection on the situation (for lack of a better, less insensitive word) in Iran.

(For those unfamiliar, the short story is that Ahmadinejad’s victory was a slap in the face for supporters of reform candidate Mir Hossein Mousavi, whose platform called for more social justice and freedom of expression, and a healthier relationship with the West. The protests in Tehran are the result of suspicion that Ahmadinejad’s “reelection” was a sham.)

Marches, riots, both violent and nonviolent protesting. Should I be happy? Angry? Hopeful? A proper reaction eludes me, besides being simply dumbstruck. It’s not easy at all to look at the faces in these photos, the emotions, knowing that this brutality is being endured as we speak to actual people.

He was surrounded and pleading for them to stop but six men with clubs, batons and metal rods kept battering a young Iranian man with ruthless force. The swing that keeps replaying in my head was the black baton that smashed the man in the skull behind his left ear.

Seconds earlier the man had dared to stand up to the baton wielding men because they had shoved a 14-year-old girl. For his chivalry he got one of the most savage beatings I have ever seen at the hands of four Iranian riot policemen and members of the Baseej, Iran’s plain clothed volunteer militia.

“To hell with Iran,” he said as he sat beaten and battered along the sidewalk. “This is not my government. This is not my country.”

A grown man who watched the beating burst into tears.

- CNN witness report

Unimaginable. To struggle this hard, to endure such brutality for your own freedom is an alien concept to me. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have had your dignities and freedoms trampled on so excessively that you, like this Tehran man, simply can’t take it anymore.

I don’t have any conclusions or definitive points to make about the election or its legitimacy, only to say that people fighting for their freedom is a profound thing to watch and reflect on.

Here are a few of the aforementioned photos from Boston Globe:

The rest of the images can be seen here.

Book review: “Three Cups of Tea”

I finally picked up Three Cups of Tea after hearing such great things about it from family and friends. This is the true story of Greg Mortenson, an American mountaineer who stumbles into a remote Himalayan village after a failed attempt to climb K2. Grateful for the kindness and hospitality of the villagers of tiny Korphe, Pakistan, and moved by the poverty and lack of education available there, Mortenson promises to return to Korphe and build them a school.

The book recounts Mortenson’s quest to build the school — his return to the States, striving to raise funds, living out of his car, learning about Pakistani culture, networking with people who share his vision. Without any prospective investors in his school, he sends dozens of individually type-written letters requesting funding from famous people he thinks might be interested — Tom Brokaw, Oprah Winfrey, etc.

After finally finding an investor, silicon transistor pioneer Jean Hoerni (who suppplements his $12,000 donation with a personal instruction to Mortenson: “Don’t screw up”), Mortenson gets the go-ahead to start work on the school. Returning to Pakistan, he hits a few roadblocks: the near-impossibility of transporting building materials through the perilous terrain around Korphe, the high costs of sturdy materials that will withstand Himalayan winters, the opposition from conservative Muslims to the idea of educating girls. But with the grant money from Hoerni and the help of his Pakistani cohorts, and after many detours along the way, Mortenson reaches his goal of building the Korphe school.

And the rest is history.

Just as intriguing as Mortenson’s transition from mountaineer to humanitarian is the perspective this book provides into the Islamic world. While Mortenson has his share of encounters with the anti-American extremism that plagues the area, he finds much to value in the peaceful Muslims he interacts with. Mortenson sees that despite their poverty and relative “backwardness” to American ways, the villagers have much to teach him about the importance of community and a simple life. Most of the villagers, in turn, see in Mortenson a defection from America’s reputation for arrogance and disrespect toward Muslims. The knee-jerk stereotypes (i.e. all Muslims are jihadists; all Americans are culturally illiterate demagogues) are beautifully deserted.

After 9/11, Mortenson’s school-building quest takes on new meaning. From his perspective as a American intimately familiar with Pakistan, we’re granted a unique vantage point on the war on terror, and the vital long-term role that education can play. It’s brilliant, really. Mortenson observes how much terrorist organizations recruit the uneducated rural poor of Pakistan and Afghanistan, building radical madrassas and brainwashing the kids to become terrorists. Mortenson “competes” with the madrassas by building schools where the kids can get a quality, well-balanced education. He believes in fighting terrorism not with reactive (or preemptive) violence, but with pursuing education and literacy, particularly for girls, as he’s often quoted:

“You can drop bombs, hand out condoms, build roads or put in electricity, but unless the girls are educated, a society won’t change.”

Three Cups of Tea is co-authored by Dalid Oliver Relin and Mortenson himself, with Relin as the ghostwriter through which we see Mortenson’s emotions and personal experiences. This being the first such biographical/autobiographical hybrid book I’ve read, my biggest complaint would be that the writing feels cumbersome and incohesive at times, particuarly when we’re whisked back and forth from objective history-telling to Mortenson’s emotions.

Literary awkwardness aside, I thought this book was fantastic — compelling story, faraway places, adventures of every kind, true tales of goodness. The fact that Mortenson (who’s been nominated for this year’s Nobel Peace Prize) is able to promote peace in such a hostile place is remarkable. No doubt he put himself in unnecessary danger at times and dealt with personal weaknesses along the way, but his story is classic heroism — a climber’s endurance coupled with unrelenting compassion.

I loved this book; I’m actually kind of sad to be done with it. (That’s how you know a book is good.) Here’s hoping you go buy it right now.

Now, I said — do it!

Made in Cambodia

Last weekend I drove up to Bowie to buy some shirts for work. As I wandered through Sears, I found what I was looking for: some nice, classic solid colored polos, for only like $8. As I picked one up, I noticed the tag: “Made in Cambodia.”

I checked the tags of some different brands: Vietnam, Bangladesh, India, Malaysia. In looking around some more, I found that just about everything in the Sears men’s section was manufactured in a Third World country – probably in a sweatshop. (I did check later and learned that Sears ranked dead last in responsible labor/human rights issues compared with other department stores.)

It’s no secret that many big retailers use sweatshop labor, and as one who saw this as injustice, I had always been theoretically “against” it. But I guess it occurred to me for the first time last weekend that I was essentially funding this injustice by buying clothes from those kinds of stores, and that I could actually do something about it.

Whatever it is that makes people with relatively easy lives less sensitive to the world’s problems, I’ve apparently got a bad case of it. Derek Webb’s words come to mind: “Poverty is so hard to see when it’s only on your TV or twenty miles across town.” Or in my case, standing in a nice, clean shopping mall in the suburbs. But poverty was there in that polo shirt tag, staring me in the face.

At that point, I was just plain angry. I don’t know what pissed me off more – the fact that Sears (and they’re not the only ones) had concocted such an fine-tuned sales pitch to tranquilize our sense of social responsibility for the sake of low prices, or the fact that I’d bought into it for so long. In any case, a light went off; I realized that everything I’d been reading recently about world crises could be transferred from thought to action right then. I knew that not buying a shirt there wasn’t going to change the world, but I was pretty mad at Sears at the moment, so I walked out empty-handed, suppressing the urge to find the manager and let him know why I wouldn’t be shopping at his store anymore.

Our youth group used to have one of those cheesy brightly-colored banners you see in middle school classrooms. It said, “What’s right isn’t always popular. What’s popular isn’t always right.” Maybe it’s because it was displayed at youth group, but I’ve always associated this phrase with adolescence, that period of life where you’ll do nearly anything to be affirmed and accepted by your peers. While most of us at some point get over the popularity obsession, opting instead for personal peace and sanity, I wonder if this proverb still has meaning for adults? Perhaps if it was tweaked to say, “What’s right isn’t always efficient. What’s efficient isn’t always right.”

A young husband of average means, money is constantly on my mind. I only make so much of it, and naturally I want to use it as efficiently as possible. This generally means Drea and I buy clothes only when needed, and we try to buy cheap. But this weekend I reached a point where I had to confront the question of what my financial convenience was worth. Was being able to buy cheap polo shirts at Sears worth the price that others have to pay? Does a convenient lifestyle justify the means required to sustain it?

So, determined to take some kind of appropriate action, I’ve been reading up the past couple days about sweatshops and/or outsourced labor, and here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Not all outsourced labor is bad. There are companies who use overseas labor, but do so responsibly and ethically, paying fair wages and providing safe working conditions.

In extremely poor areas, working in a sweatshop is actually better than other viable alternatives. From Wikipedia:

It is also often pointed out that, unlike in the industrialized world, the sweatshops are not replacing high-paying jobs. Rather, sweatshops offer an improvement over subsistence farming and other back-breaking tasks, or even prostitution, trash picking, or starvation by unemployment. This is the case since most under-developed countries have weak labor markets.

Makes sense, but it necessarily invites the question of what an ethically-minded company would do in this situation. I would think they’d have two options:

1. Offer local workers a slightly better alternative than begging, prostitution, or starving to death. Since they have nowhere else to go, freely pay them as little as desired, or don’t pay them at all. Retain workforce by threatening even greater abuse if they try to leave or form a union. Turn a grand profit.
2. Recognize that you could go with Option 1, but in the interest of decency, pay workers a fair, liveable wage. Provide a safe working environment even though the country’s government doesn’t require it. Depending on how many people you can employ, maybe even reduce local crime by providing a sustainable livelihood for a portion of the population. Since cost of living is so modest compared to the US, your company still reduces costs by employing foreign workers.

I’m no expert on this stuff, and maybe I’m oversimplifying the issue, but it seems to me that companies who outsource labor to poor countries basically do one of these two things, or maybe a little of each.

There’s great potential for reform. One of the most helpful resources I found was this web page at Green America that provides an overview of sweatshops – why they exist, what everyday people like us can do to fight them. I think our nation is beginning to realize how universally destructive some of our consumption habits are, and what we can do to reverse the trend. I also can’t help but sense that God wants to save us from the self-defeating systems our collective sin has trapped us in. To think of the redemptive good He can do through and in us…

So this is me officially hopping on the bandwagon; I need to kick it up a notch on buying responsibly. I’m going to start off small – no more sweatshop-made stuff – and go from there. Heck, I already voted Democrat in the election, bought us a Prius, and – damn it, I don’t care if it is $45 a carton – organic milk just tastes better. I should’ve seen this coming…

Rethinking foreign missions

The other night I was reading through my old journal from a few years ago, specifically the entries from a missions trip my sister and I went on. In the summer of ‘05, we joined a group of college kids on a trip to Southeast Asia to share Christ and teach English to middle schoolers.

Reading those pages brought back a flood of memories of the weird juxtapositions that defined that trip for me. Being so far from home had me alternating between barely-contained excitement and acute homesickness. The landscape was simultaneously beautiful and ugly; from a single vantage point you could see a lush green mountainside and a stream of sewage running down the street. Being surrounded by a language I didn’t understand was exhilarating at times and unbelievably frustrating at others. Most significant though, was the juxtaposition I saw in the local followers of Christ: unshakable joy in hard circumstances.

Seeing Christianity lived out in such a different (read: difficult and dangerous) context had an effect on me. How humbling it was to realize how easy I had it, that I didn’t have to worry about the government breaking into my house and arresting me, or doing worse, for being a Christian. That I didn’t have to live in constant fear for my family’s safety, that I had everything I needed (and then some) to live a comfortable life. And yet, despite their hardships, those Asian believers probably had the most sincere faith and love for Jesus that I’ve ever seen. I took stock of their simple joy and contentment in knowing Jesus, realizing then I had more to learn from them than I had to teach. Truth be told, I think that trip benefited me more than the people we came to serve.

But isn’t the point of going on a missions trip to help those in need, not learn something for yourself?

About a year after the trip, I read a book by K.P. Yohannan, the founder of a wonderful organization called Gospel for Asia, in which he discusses how the foreign mission field has changed over the past half-century. His book is essentially a defense of the native missionary movement, stating that since the Gospel has now been planted by Westerners in many of the world’s most remote cultures, the time has come to mobilize native missionaries to spread the Gospel to their own people. He recounts the effectiveness that natives in his home country of India have in reaching their people, compared with short term Western missionaries who aren’t familiar with the language or culture.

Upon reading this, a lot of things about my trip became clear. I kept remembering a particular day when we read a condensed “Creation to the Cross” story to our class of 7th graders with the help of a native Christian woman. As she translated the story into the local language, I noticed that she had a connection with the kids that I didn’t have. She spoke their dialect, ate their food, knew what music they liked, shared their life experiences. After reading K.P.’s book, it all began to make sense.

It seems that there’s an emerging shift in the way Western Christians are thinking about short term missions, which is really exciting to me. I came across a thought-provoking article the other day (by way of another great article) that resonated with what I had experienced in Asia: that short term missions trips usually benefit those who go more than the people already there, and that we North American Christians have much to learn from our brothers and sisters in the third world.

Rather than regurgitate the ideas presented in those two articles, I’ll wrap things up with an excerpt from one, in hopes that if you’re a Christian with a heart for foreign missions, you’ll read them both. It’ll be worth it, I promise!

I believe North American Christians need to start taking seriously our responsibility to the  people of the third world – and visiting another country can be an appropriate place to begin. But we need to ask each other: What is the purpose of the trip? Are we going through the motions of helping the poor so we can congratulate ourselves afterwards? Or are we seeking to understand the lives of third world people – to recognize and support their strengths and to try to understand the problems they face and our role in them? Are we ethnocentrically treating the people of the third world as tragic objects to be rescued – or as equals to walk with and learn from?

- Jo Ann Van Engen, “Short Term Missions: Are They Worth the Cost?”

Greed isn’t sustainable.

I came across this insight over on the Sojourners Blog the other day:

“Major institutions have crumbled, markets have failed, and trade has ground to a halt. And many would argue that the crisis highlights something bigger: the failure of an ideology.”

- Andy Clasper

Could this economic crisis really signify the failure an entire ideology? If Andy is talking about our cut-throat, every-man-for-himself brand of capitalism, I think he may be right. In fact, I hope he is.

Right now, our economic ideology is to look out for yourself. Give yourself the biggest advantage you can. Do whatever it takes to get promoted, stay ahead of the curve, get paid more. Money is the lifeblood of our culture. It not only keeps our economy fluid, but serves as the primary gauge by which we judge the success of a person, and the overall happiness of ourselves.

I think this ideology has been the Achilles’ heel of our economy. If you think about it, almost every reason why our economy collapsed – lending crisis, foreclosure crisis, excessive risk on Wall Street – can be traced back to human greed.

Maybe it’s the recession, and maybe it’s just because Drea and I are generally strapped for cash, but I’m beginning more and more to see the value in the way my grandparents’ generation lived. I still don’t quite buy the “I had to walk to school uphill both ways in the snow” bit, but maybe our grandparents were on to something. I get the impression that they lived in a healthier society than ours. People cared about each other’s well-being, about the common good of their communities. They also lived within their means. No credit cards, no instant gratification. If you wanted something, you had to wait until you’d saved enough money to buy it. (What a concept!)

Hopefully something as large-scale as this recession will make us realize that a greed-driven ideology isn’t just ungenerous, it’s also unsustainable. President Obama wrote the following in an op-ed released yesterday in anticipation of next week’s G-20 meeting in London:

“We cannot settle for a return to the status quo. We must put an end to the reckless speculation and spending beyond our means; to the bad credit, over-leveraged banks and absence of oversight that condemns us to bubbles that inevitably bust.”

There’s obviously a lot of work and backpedaling to be done, but it’s good to hear that the President doesn’t view this recession as a glitch in an otherwise good system, that he recognizes the need for a fundamental rethinking.

As a nation and as individuals, I hope we come out of this mess with an enhanced confidence in two things: moderation and community. Moderation because certain luxuries are worth giving up for the sake of being able to sleep at night. I’ll take living in a small house and eating cheap meals over “the finer things” anyday if it means not having to stress about money. And community because, well it’s just better than trying to get by on your own (as Solomon would attest).

As bad as this recession seems right now, it might be just the kick in the pants we need in order to pursue a more sustainable ideology.