SEANMBRAGE

is there an app for that?

I work for a Christian school which is affiliated with a very large church over in Highlands Ranch. Please, lay aside your knee-jerk cynicism about Suburbia, megachurch, and whatever else you’re feeling cynical about when I say “Highlands Ranch.” I work in IT Support, running the help desk for the school and church staff. It’s busy, fun, consistent work and I’m enjoying it immensely. 

Yesterday, I was helping one of the senior pastors of the church with his computer. As we waiting for this-and-that update to finish, he told me about an article he’d been reading about a growing number of large churches deploying custom iPhone apps for their congregations. These apps offer everything from event information and news, directions around larger church campuses, and interactive media to “enhance” the churchgoing experience. This pastor then asked, referring to himself as an “old curmudgeon,” what someone from my generation thinks about that. He himself was having a hard time seeing the point, especially when this article demonstrated clearly that in almost every instance of churches deploying their apps, use of the software spiked upward in the first 1 - 2 months, before dropping out almost entirely.

I thought about it. The best answer I could come up with was this:

“Everyone is trying to sell my generation something. Everyone. And I think that a church coming to my generation with a new iPhone app would just feel really inauthentic and disingenuous. It’d be someone with something shiny saying to young people, ‘come over to our church! Look at our cool apps!’ I can’t understand what the purpose would be.”

I was glad he nodded. Not only because he’s the boss of all my bosses, and it’d stink to have made a fool of myself in his office, but also because he completely shattered my perception of this man in a big office in a big church. He’s not interested in bigger, shinier, newer. He just wants to do good things for the people coming to the church. It’s kind of hard to stay cynical around a man like that. 

He has no interest in these shiny new apps. But it made me wonder.

Does church need apps? I can’t help but tire of this endless need for churches to be more and more “relevant.” How long are we going to act like we are peddlers in a competitive market? 

There. That’ll be my one snarky comment for this post. 

Obligatory Snow-day Twitter Compilation, volume 1: The Hits

All I Have is Yours (and other statements of the obvious.)

I think one of the most common lyrics in modern worship is “all I have is yours.” While there seem to be plenty of variations on this theme, (take all of me, I give myself away,) it seems to be a recurring idea in worship music. It’s one of the lyrics that I remember singing the most, writing the most, and repeating the most throughout my youth group and even early college days.

My disclaimer to the rest of this post is this: I’m not trying to attack or criticize any particular singer, writer, artist, church, or congregant. I’m simply stepping back and analyzing words that I’ve been singing to God for a very long time without really thinking about them. 

“All I have is yours.” Well, to begin this is a statement of insane obviousness. That’s a terrible sentence, but it fits. While “all I have is yours” is certainly nice, and I recall it always invoking a strong emotional reaction, I take issue with myself here.

1. Do I think God is not aware of the fact that he and he allows owns every iota of reality which exists in the universe? To begin with, duh! Of course “all I have is his.” To bring Kuyper into my fight, “there is not one square inch of the universe over which Christ does not cry out ‘mine!.’” God is the creator and possessor of all things. The fingers I use to type this are gifts given from him, and each breath giving oxygen to lungs, blood and muscle are gifts given by him. Of course it’s his.

2. Did I ever stop to examine the lyrical context or (scarier still,) the intention of my heart when singing “All I have is yours?” Because when I dig deep, there are a couple of really terrifying implications in singing this lyric:

A. It seems entirely likely that this lyric is suggesting or even instilling in me a subconscious belief that God is somehow the benefactor of my worship to him. In singing “all I have is yours,” I’m giving to God something over which he previously held no claim to sovereignty. I, the lord of a great tower and land have surrendered it over to someone that I’ve determined to be worthy of its possession. This is an unbearably sinful thought to think, and I thought it over and over as I sang “all I have is yours” through high school and college, though I never really realized it at the time. The idea that I’m giving to God something he didn’t have before makes this song about how good and gracious I am to God, when all of creation and Scripture points to the contrary.

B. “All I have is yours” does not directly lead us to heresy. But I think it can very easily plant seeds of it. Because underlying this idea of giving God something he didn’t have before generates a subliminal view of God as incomplete in and of himself and needing his creatures to fulfill a need or desire within himself. But God is forever perfectly satisfied in himself, forever enjoying and delighting in his own perfection and glory. He makes creatures to delight in, love, and reflect that glory back to him, that it may be known by all creatures and delighted in forever and ever. So I’m very sorry to tell myself this, but God doesn’t “need” me. 

C. “All I have is yours” reveals another underlying problem in my heart and mind, and that is the issue of blind repetition. Here I find myself assuming that because something sounded spiritual and caused me to have a spiritual-feeling emotional reaction, it is therefore true and worthy of repeating. As a worship leader, blindly leading others to sing this, I’m guilty of a great sin. Rather than weighing the words and language of my songs against the truth and realities of scripture, I’m making my emotions and shallow reasoning the litmus test against which I weigh my liturgy. So here again, I’ve attempted to raise up out of myself an idol, a god-Sean who know’s what’s good, true, and beautiful even if Scripture may point toward the opposite.

D. Lastly (for this post, at least,) the lyric “all I have is yours” can, in the context of “here you go God, I’m at last giving you XYZ” diminishes the saving work of the cross reconciling us to God through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Because when I sing “all I have is yours,” I’m making a subconscious declaration that because I’m doing X, God will then reward me by doing Y, giving me Z, and making sure I never have to go through (insert suffering here.) I’m singing “all I have is yours,” but I’m believing that if I do one thing, God responds by forgiving me and doing another thing. But the gravity of “we love him because he first loved us gets lost.” The idea here is not “because God loved us, we respond to him and our response stimulates God to act on our behalf.” No, God has already acted through the cross, and it’s only because of that that we are able to love him at all. I love him because he first loved me; without the act of God enabling me for this love, I am in and of myself utterly unable to love God. 

Of course “all I have is [God’s.]” Is there anything that isn’t? 

Inerrancy, Authority, the Holy Spirit and me. Part 1

What I say about the Bible says a lot about me.

In our post-modern, so-cool-its-uncool land of hipsters, yuppies, occupiers and the like, one topic is sure to set ablaze one big ruckus of conversation: the inerrancy of scripture. For most old-fashioned, “conservative,” reformation-leaning Christians, the issue seems simple. They believe the Bible is perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts. The Bible says things. Lots of things. And they’re all true. 

All of them. 

Saying this should seem normal, admirable even. But I think if I were to gather a gaggle of “cool Christians” together, Christians near my own age and tax bracket and neighborhood, if I were to tell these Christians that I believe the Bible is perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts, I can think of a lot of words that would get thrown my way. 

Words like “fundamentalist.” 

Words like “arrogant,” “conservative,” and “intolerant” seem also likely. 

The fact is, it is simply not cool or popular to believe that the Bible is really all that trustworthy. And I see their point. 

I mean, after all, the Bible was originally printed on paper. Paper! It was written down by people who never even saw the Internet. Never saw the Internet. The guys who wrote down the Bible used really long words and sentences. And if there’s one thing modern society can teach us, it’s that if you can’t say it in 140 characters or less, it’s not worth saying. Now, as much as I’d like to wax poetic and lament the current state of the American intellect, especially in the 18-34 demographic, that’s a sad topic for another, sadder article.

What I think, is that my view of the Bible relates directly to my view of authority and the Holy Spirit. I don’t think that a view of the Bible as irrelevant, outdated, untrustworthy or diluted makes a person seem smart. Or intellectual. Or enlightened. Or progressive. I think it displays one of the fundamental problems with everything in the world. 

Rebellion. 

You see, it’s one thing to argue that one translation is closer to an original text than another. But engage in “post-modern” strivings to converse away the Bible and relegate it to a set of morality tales for angry old white men is really a smoke-and-mirrors routine to mask our calloused, selfish, spoiled, rebellious hearts. 

The fact is, we can’t accept the Bible as perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts because we can’t accept that there exists authority over our lives. After all, if the Bible is perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts, then that would mean that the Bible has the divine right to dictate what is right to believe about God. How I worship. What I pray for. Who Jesus is. What Jesus said. How I spend my money. Who I have sex with. Whether or not I can divorce my wife. If it’s okay for me to simply live with my girlfriend and never marry her. How I raise my kids. How I respond to anger. What I do to my friends, family, neighbors. Who gets to come over to my house for dinner. How I apply myself to my job. The meaning of happiness. The root of joy. 

If the Bible is perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts, then that means that whoever wrote it is smarter than me. And that simply cannot be. Because, after all, I have the internet. I’ve read some books about some stuff. I had a college professor who taught me some really great quotes about life and philosophy. 

So I can’t possibly believe that the Bible is perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts. Because if I do, then I might have to do what it says. 

And worse than that, I’ll have to admit that there is a God and he’s not me. That there is a sovereignly reigning king who rules the universe with absolute power and authority. And that he’s good, but doesn’t do the things I think he should all the time.

The problem with viewing scripture as authoritative is that it refuses to obey me, and demands that I obey Jesus. So it’s more appealing to culture, to hipsters, to “post-modern” twenty-somethings to just say, “the Bible shouldn’t be taken literally.” Or, “the Bible was really written for a different time.” So I’ll whittle and piss away time asking questions that please my ears but ravage my soul. I’ll devote my time to “spirituality” and other ambiguous, safe, undemanding ideals. 

Because if the Bible is perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts, then God is far more perfect, sovereign, powerful, just, holy, good, loving and kind than I can realize. And that means I’m vastly more sinful, arrogant, rebellious, and ungrateful than I can express. Which means that Jesus is infinitely more worthy of worship than I can possibly give. 

So it’s just way easier to believe that the Bible isn’t perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts.

Otherwise, I might have to admit things about myself that I simply don’t want to. I can’t be entitled if the Bible is true. I can’t be selfish. I can’t place God into whatever shiny new box my culture has to offer. I can’t deviate from traditional Christian doctrine whenever it’s more convenient for me. I can’t pick and choose the parts of the Bible that make me feel warm and fuzzy and discard the rest. 

I can’t do whatever it is I want to do to God the Father, Son, and Spirit if the Bible is perfectly true in all that it teaches and asserts about Him.

So let’s just keep pretending it’s not.

28 is not 18

Today was the first day of Men’s Boot Camp at Park Church. If you don’t go to Park Church, then that statement probably means nothing to you. Men’s Boot Camp is:

1) Something men at Park Church do. Not because we are chauvinists, but because it’s not Co-ed Boot Camp. It’s for men.

2) Really, really, really early in the morning, which is a lot of what this post regards.

3) Really, really, really stirring, challenging and inspiring. I almost wish that some women were around just to see how awesome the men in their lives are. But they can’t come. It’s Men’s Boot Camp.

Something that Brian spoke to this morning was the challenge to get a whole bunch of guys to wake up early. Brian is one of the pastors of Park Church, and an all-around okay guy in my book. That’s meant to be taken somewhat tongue-in-cheek, because I’m quite fond of Brian and think he’s a wildly smart dude.

But I digress. The thing that Brian spoke to was the state of prolonged adolescence people in our culture seem completely trapped in. If you want a better idea of what I’m talking about, I recommend reading Kevin DeYoung’s Just Do Something. DeYoung does a great job of addressing this prolonged teenage state. I myself have been guiltier than anyone of wishing I was still 17. I’ve put an awful lot of growth and relationships on the line trying to live like I still was.

But the fact of the matter is, 28 is not the new 18. 

Our culture is trying really, really, really, really hard to convince you that it is. And they’ve presented some very compelling reasons why they think it is. 

But it really really really really isn’t. And the longer you live like it is, the longer you’ll stay mired in a place you should’ve left years ago. You’ll miss out on an awful lot of life while you keep playing “just graduated.” 

If you’re a young person, enjoy it. It’s a gift. 

If you’re out of High School and of legal drinking age, guess what? You’re not a college freshman who can legally drink. So stop living out your high school fantasies of how being an “adult” would “totally rule.” Please,

For the love of God, grow up. Help me grow up. Help me leave high school at long last. Help your brothers and sisters stop pretending it’s senior year. Encourage, challenge, or berate them. (Please don’t really, it’s not as helpful as the first 2.) 

But please, let’s all grow up and do something.

the telling

I’ve started a new project, and I’m lucky enough to have the lovely Hannah helping me out with it. For those of you who don’t remember, Hannah is my girlfriend, and on occasion we sing songs together. Sometimes those songs get recorded on my MacBook Pro, and then they somehow or another end up on the internet. 

The idea behind these new songs is pretty simple: take a passage of scripture and make it a song. The catch? The words of the passage can’t be altered in any way. No paraphrase or interpretation. Just the bible as lyric. It’s funny how often we assume that without our help and creativity, the words of the bible hold little weight or power to transform. Anyways. 

Here’s a link to the music Hannah and I make, including our first “fighter verse” song. Enjoy.

http://allthewhile.bandcamp.com

losing your train of thought

I tend to be late to parties. I’ve been loving the music of Eluvium for 3 years now, but just today bought the album “Similes.” It’s a little strange adjusting to hearing actual vocals and lyrics, when the previous records were pure Eno-riffic ambience. The vocals are mixed nicely, and stay out of the way of the atmosphere the pads and instruments create, so I’m really enjoying it. It’s like Brian Eno had a baby with the National. But that’s not such a bad thing. Go buy the record.

http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/similes/id354553267