Josiah goes to kindergarten

Josiah went to his first day of kindergarten today, and it sounds like he had fun. Last night we read The Night Before Kindergarten together, and I asked him how he was feeling about going to school. He said that he was fine, that he thought it would be fun. So I'm pleased to report that after class today he said that it was "great!"

In honor of our son, let me repost a recent blog entry by my wife about a recent Josiah incident:
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Yesterday I took away Josiah's toy lightsaber. He was hitting things (including me) and when he refused to stop I took it away and put it on top of a high bookshelf. A few minutes later we had the following conversation:

Josiah (looking very sad): Mommy, you made me sad. You broke my heart.

Me: I did?

Josiah (drawing a heart in the air): Yes, my heart that is shaped like this. You broke it.

Me: How did I break your heart?

Josiah: You took my lightsaber away... (dramatic eyes, quivering lip)... If you give it back, my heart will be fixed.

Ellen: You can play with it tomorrow.

Josiah (on the verge of tears): If I have to wait until tomorrow my heart will be broken forever!

At this point I had to try very hard to hide my giggles. He seems to have the guilt trip thing down. When I refused to relent he resorted to threatening me with a ghost, vampire bats and a sheep dog. A sheep dog?! Where does he come up with this stuff?

Acts 19 on economic (in)security

[This is an article I wrote for TheHighCalling.org that was posted a few months ago.]

Business as Usual?

“Whistle while you work,” the classic Disney song proclaims. But in financially uncertain times, it can be hard to whistle when our work doesn’t necessarily provide the economic returns we hope for. It can be a challenge to enjoy our daily work when market forces and competition threaten our job security or our industry’s future. What do we do when our jobs and finances are not secure?

Acts 19 serves as a case study of two contrasting attitudes toward work and pay. The setting is the city of Ephesus, which at the time was commercially and politically the most important city in the Roman province of Asia (what is now Turkey). It was a religious center for the Roman emperor cult as well as for worship of the goddess Artemis. The Ephesian temple to Artemis was one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, and much of the local economy depended on the worship of Artemis. In fact, the temple also functioned as a bank.

One person who worked in Ephesus was the silversmith Demetrius. He made silver shrines of Artemis and generated business for many local workers, and we can envision him as a local union leader, organizing his fellow workers and aligning with other related trades to advocate for their industry. Demetrius was loyal to his workers and his industry, and he fiercely defended the economic interests of his trade against any threat.

Along comes the apostle Paul, whose Christian ministry is a direct challenge to the Artemis cult. Imagine if an influential person came to Seattle and began preaching the evils of coffee, directly threatening Starbucks’ business. Or if religious groups decided to lobby against the use of computers, or professional sports, or fast food. Very powerful special interest lobbies would exercise their clout to combat such threats.

That’s exactly what Demetrius does. He arranges some inter-guild meetings and warns his cohorts that this Christianity is bad for business. “You know, my friends, that we receive a good income from this business,” he says. “And you see and hear how this fellow Paul has convinced and led astray large numbers of people here in Ephesus.” His voice rises, his fists clench. “This Paul says that gods made by human hands—that’s our hands, folks, the work of your hands and mine—are no gods at all! There is danger not only that our trade will lose its good name, but also that the temple of the great goddess Artemis will be discredited.” Appealing to fear, protectionism, and defensiveness, Demetrius ratchets up the rhetoric until an angry mob runs riot across town.

That’s one attitude we can have when our work isn’t going so well. Stock prices are falling, sales orders are decreasing, overseas competition is increasing—we panic. We fear for our jobs, our careers, our very lives.

Contrast this with another attitude we find a few paragraphs earlier in Acts 19. We read that “a number who had practiced sorcery brought their scrolls together and burned them publicly. When they calculated the value of the scrolls, the total came to fifty thousand drachmas” (Acts 19:19). A drachma was a silver coin worth about a day’s wages.

Think about how much money you make in a day. Now multiply that by fifty thousand. Do the math. That’s a lot of money. This is not some symbolic gesture that the former sorcerers and religious leaders made—they very directly repudiated their industry, at great financial cost. They got rid of their assets, their investments, their 401(k)s. They gave up their livelihood, their economic security. Why? Because they heard a higher calling.

On the one hand, Demetrius and his cohorts, fearing economic disaster, retrenched and responded with fear and defensiveness. On the other hand, the former scroll owners saw that the kingdom of God was blowing a new wind through their city, and they needed to give up their old ways of doing business as usual.

We have no idea what these former sorcerers did after burning their scrolls. Did they find other careers, other jobs, other callings? We simply don’t know. But we do know this—they judged that some things were more important than economic security. Their line of work had become an idol to them, but they surrendered it to the Way of Jesus.

We don’t know what winds of fortune may blow through our business. But we can have an attitude more like the sorcerers than the silversmiths. We too can have an attitude of trust, faith and confidence in God’s leading and provision for the future.

$100 project update: Final report

Last summer I participated in one of Calvin College's Seminars in Christian Scholarship about writing as Christian proclamation. We mistakenly thought that we each had $100 of funding to use however we decided. (Turns out that we had already used our allotted $100 for reimbursement of books for the seminar.) But we went ahead and decided to embark on a $100 project, in which each of us would do something creative and constructive with $100 and then write about it.

My $100 was "funded" by an interview article that I had worked on during my Calvin seminar, and I spent much of the following months wondering what to do with the money. Got some nice suggestions from commenters on this blog, with ideas for helping youth or elderly, sponsoring an essay writing contest, coffee for strangers, facilitating a community garage sale, environmental stewardship and the like. I definitely wanted to do something related to my suburban community, and I thought it would be appropriate to do something writing- or book-related, given the nature of our seminar.

I thought about ways to grow the money first. Something I do fairly routinely is sell used books on Amazon; I always get a kick out of finding a book at a thrift shop for a quarter that I can sell online for ten bucks. Last winter I was browsing a used book store and found a number of Anchor Bible Commentaries for six or seven bucks each. I sold some of them online for thirty and fifty dollars apiece. Should I calculate that into my $100 amount and declare that I had grown the money to $160 or so? But what about the inventory of books that I bought that haven't sold yet - do I need to deduct that from the balance? And shipping costs, etc.? After thinking through the accounting details, I concluded that I didn't want to mess with the potential entrepreneurial investment growth aspect of the project and would just keep it to a simple what-could-I-do-with-$100.

Something that occurred to me while reading The Kingdom Assignment is that people often used their $100 in ways consistent with their natural interests, gifts and opportunities. So I thought about the various community organizations and institutions that I interface with, and the obvious thought that came to mind was our local public library. We go to the library several times every week and always have dozens of items checked out and stacked up on our nightstands.

So I talked with folks at the library, explained the $100 project and asked if there were any ways I could use the money for some sort of special volunteer project or donation. I didn't want to just donate it to the friends of the library foundation or buy a brick on the sidewalk; I wanted to do something a little more personal and specific. I mentioned that I work at a book publisher and could purchase books to be donated. They talked it over at some meeting and got back to me, saying that they'd like the donation of books. So I gave them some current catalogs, and they looked through them and gave me a list of requested titles.

Because of my IVP employee discount, the $100 was able to purchase $250 worth of books (retail price), which in this case was 15 books, four of which I had worked on as project editor. And I was also able to donate another dozen or so overstock/slightly hurt books that were available for giveaway. The library carries numerous Christian books and even already had a few IVP titles (including my suburbs book), but I was glad to make more IVP books directly available to the collection.

So my $100 project flowed out of my work in Christian book publishing and benefited an institution in my local suburb that serves as a "third place" for the community and promotes literacy, reading and knowledge. I'm hopeful that random browsers will pick up these books on the new arrivals shelves and experience some degree of spiritual ministry through the content. I've always loved the fact that our books are like little missionaries that can go many places that we can't. I think it's theologically significant that Christians can work through existing community organizations (like public libraries) to be salt and light in our communities. We can work counterculturally through the church and other Christian organizations, but we can also work transformatively through society's own institutions.

So that's what I did with my $100. What did you do?

Time in traffic and walkable communities

I just saw a poll on Facebook about "How much time do you spend in traffic a day?" One thousand Facebook members responded. Here are the results:

- More than 2 hours: 10%
- 1 to 2 hours: 31%
- 30 minutes to an hour: 28%
- Less than 30 minutes: 23%
- None: 9%

There are breakdowns by age and gender, but not by urban/suburban, etc. The only clue the poll gives of geography is that the "audience" was Los Angeles, CA. So that may skew the results in terms of applicability nationwide, but since LA is largely a suburban megalopolis, this may be a fairly good reflection of what suburban commuting patterns are like in major metropolitan areas. This is not a scientific survey, of course, but I think the results are telling.

I also just came across Walk Score (HT: Life Is Ministry - thanks, Matthew!). Walk Score is a site that calculates how walkable your neighborhood community is, based on how pedestrian-friendly the street layout is, the proximity to parks and public space, access to community institutions, etc. Go to Walk Score, plug in your address and see how your neighborhood does.

My neighborhood ranked as 54 out of 100, which is "Some Walkable Locations: Some stores and amenities are within walking distance, but many everyday trips still require a bike, public transportation, or car." Oddly enough, our previous home just two blocks away gets a score of 57. The apartment one suburb over where we lived when we first got married is 55. The neighborhood where I grew up in the suburbs of Minneapolis is 29. I remember walking quite a lot there, but that was primarily before I was old enough to drive. (Walk Score also lets you score some celebrity homes, like Bill Gates's house [6], the White House [91] and Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt's pre-breakup house [8]. One of the most iconic suburban homes, the Brady Bunch house, gets a very walkable 80.)

Here are Walk Score's comments about why walking matters:

Walkable neighborhoods offer surprising benefits to our health, the environment, and our communities.

Better health: A study in Washington State found that the average resident of a pedestrian-friendly neighborhood weighs 7 pounds less than someone who lives in a sprawling neighborhood¹. Residents of walkable neighborhoods drive less and suffer fewer car accidents, a leading cause of death between the ages of 15 - 45.

Reduction in greenhouse gas: Cars are a leading cause of global warming. Your feet are zero pollution transportation machines.

More transportation options: Compact neighborhoods tend to have higher population density, which leads to more public transportation options and bicycle infrastructure. Not only is taking the bus cheaper than driving, but riding a bus is ten times safer than driving a car²!

Increased social capital: Walking increases social capital by promoting face-to-face interaction with your neighbors. Studies have shown that for each 10 minutes a person spends in a daily car commute, time spent in community activities falls by 10 percent³.

Stronger local businesses: Dense, walkable neighborhoods provide local businesses with the foot traffic they need to thrive. It's easier for pedestrians to shop at many stores on one trip, since they don't need to drive between destinations.

The Way Is Made by Walking

IVP just released a new book called The Way Is Made by Walking: A Pilgrimage Along the Camino de Santiago by Arthur Paul Boers. The author traces his month-long, 500-mile-long walk on a historic pilgrimage route in northwest Spain. (Cue the retro soundtrack: "I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more . . .") What's most intriguing to me about the book is that it blends spiritual formation with theologically astute cultural analysis. So here are some particularly insightful observations about the physical act of walking:

I also know that my watch moves more slowly when I am on foot. Walking affects not just space and distance but also time itself. In our high-speed way of living—which we intriguingly call “driven”—we miss many things. Christian faith calls us to a different pace of life, and walking is a vital way to achieve that.

In an essay titled “Time by Design,” Linda Breen Pierce argues that driving exposes us “to both faster speeds and greater stimulation” than walking. Consequently the brain must “work harder as you focus on safety and process all that you see.” It pressures us with “a rush of sensory perceptions.” Walking then is not just physically slower but mentally as well. There is less to take in, to process, to absorb. And we are able to deal with what faces us.

Technological culture—in spite of “labor saving” rhetoric and devices—actually makes us busier. Pauses, breaks and respites have disappeared. The norm of multitasking leaves us unaware of what goes on within or around us. But walking can move us into a different mode. Einstein showed that time is relative. Moving on our own two feet has its own pace; I call it the speed of life.

In our culture it is less trouble to drive than to walk, even if that choice is wasteful and unhealthy. Strolling is actually discouraged. . . . I could name dozens of people who drive an hour or two each day to and from work and think nothing of it. It is the price they pay for a job. But I know hardly anyone who walks thirty minutes for their commute, let alone an hour or two. How strange we would regard someone who did that, even though it is far healthier physically, emotionally, spiritually and environmentally.

Walking is an act of dissent; it is countercultural.

Indeed, walking is a demonstration, a demurral. Against flagrant expenditure of nonrenewable resources. In opposition to the noise of motor vehicles. Counter to the ugliness of cities and communities shaped to accommodate cars and discourage pedestrians. In opposition to all the burying of topsoil under asphalt. Mourning for how long one has to go before feet can touch the earth. In remonstration against the danger that cars pose. And on and on.

As I made my little declaration of dissent, I realized that I was not angry. I was joyful and sad, both at once. Gladdened by the opportunity to walk, and regretting that others did not know what they were missing.

Book discussion chapter 6: Finding community

I'm a little slow in posting this update, but L. L. Barkat and Charity Singleton have again blogged their thoughts about my book, this time about chapter 6, which is about the challenges of finding community in the suburbs. Here's a brief chapter summary: The meaning of "community" has shifted over the past century from a geographic sense of place (community = neighborhood) to a more affinity-based understanding (the arts community, the Christian community, the eBay community). The architecture and structures of suburbia tend to isolate us and distance us from our neighbors. Historically, television brought us indoors and air conditioning kept us there. But we all have this inherent yearning for reconnecting with our neighbors, whether through the public "third places" or personal gatherings like Tupperware parties, which I argue were one of the key historical forces in the mid-20th century that counteracted suburban isolationism.

And the best way for suburban Christians to build community is to recover the practice of hospitality. Charity notes, "Hospitality can be as traditional as inviting neighbors over for a meal, or as radical as creating new neighbors by inviting missionaries or a struggling family to temporarily share your home. Hsu also suggests things like sharing lawn equipment or transforming personal space, like garages, into community space for neighborhood gatherings. Mostly, I've heard that hospitality is creating space in my life to share with other people. When my home, my hands, and my heart are available, I can help build community."

And particularly eloquent, I thought, were Llama Momma's comments:

. . . And the single Mom on the corner who is too busy to care much where her kids are most afternoons. Letting her know that I care about her and her daughers; giving her my phone number and letting her know that one of her girls is at my house almost every day, so if she needs her back home, to call; and welcoming "one more" at our lunch table most afternoons. Filling her up with hugs and healthy snacks and a listening ear. This is community.

Watching the children play t-ball in the front yard with all of the neighborhood kids and Moms, realizing I'm almost out of milk and my husband's out of town. Asking the neighbor Mom to keep an eye on the boys while I run to the store. This is community.

And when a neighbor's husband comes home late and drunk, and domestic violence becomes a reality inside her "safe" space, she realizes she is not alone. She has community. So at midnight, her and her babies come knocking on my safe house. This is community.

Okay. I've gone on too much. I guess I am just so passionate about this because I am experiencing it in my neighborhood and it is powerful and wonderful. I have friends I wouldn't have had if I had stayed inside, and I am better for those friendships.

Here are links to previous posts on chapter 5 on branding and identity, chapter 4 on consumerism, chapter 3 on commuter culture, chapter 2 on housing, and chapter 1 and the introduction on suburbia in general.

Nehemiah, prayer and perseverance

[Last week I was pleased to see that ChristianityToday.com reposted my last Harry Potter entry as the article "Spoiler Alert." Here's another article I wrote for TheHighCalling.org that has been reposted at Christianity Today's FaithInTheWorkplace.com site.]

Praying Through the Dark Times

Nehemiah is one of my favorite Old Testament characters. His story begins "in the month of Kislev in the 20th year" of the reign of King Artaxerxes (Neh. 1:1). That's when Nehemiah learns that Jerusalem's wall has been broken down and the gates burned. Nehemiah sits down and weeps. "For some days" (1:4) he mourns and fasts and prays before the Lord. He says that he is praying "day and night" (1:6) for the people of Israel.

How long did he pray? The next scene takes place "in the month of Nisan" (2:1), when he asks the king for permission to return to Jerusalem. The Hebrew month of Nisan is March/April by our calendar. The month of Kislev is November/December. Nehemiah has been praying four months! Day and night, for four months, Nehemiah has persevered in prayer before taking action to return to Jerusalem.

Once there, Nehemiah surveys Jerusalem and organizes the community to repair the wall. Along the way, they face opposition from outsiders as well as from within their own ranks. He battles political intrigue and handles dissension and disgruntled workers. All the while, they work "from the first light of dawn till the stars come out" (4:21). He organizes shifts so they "can serve us as guards by night and workmen by day" (4:22). They don't even change their clothes, so they will be ready to defend their work at a moment's notice.

With amazing speed, "the wall was completed on the twenty-fifth of Elul, in fifty-two days" (6:15). Elul is August/September. So Nehemiah and his team worked nonstop day and night, in hard outdoor labor, during some of the hottest months of the year. And they finished their colossal task in less than two months. No wonder their enemies from surrounding nations "were afraid and lost their self-confidence, because they realized that this work had been done with the help of God" (6:16). Nehemiah spent less time doing the actual work than he spent praying for and preparing for the work. Perhaps that's why the work went so well.

Nehemiah continued on as governor of Jerusalem until the thirty-second year of Artaxerxes (13:6), meaning that he governed for twelve years, longer than many of us stay in our jobs. Nehemiah persevered in his work, in both short-term projects as well as in long-term governance.

After his twelve-year administration, he returned to Babylon, presumably to serve the king there. "Some time later" (13:7), and we don't know how long, Nehemiah returns to Jerusalem. Perhaps he is an old man now, at an age when he should be taking it easy. But he sees the people ignoring some of the reforms that he instituted. So he takes action—and not merely to preserve his own legacy. He takes action to ensure that his people persevere in the mission, identity, and calling that God has given them. He reminds the Israelites: Do not forget your commitments to God.

We remember Nehemiah today as a model of organization and visionary leadership. We sometimes forget his perseverance as he worked to realize God's will for himself and his community. He was faithful throughout his life, persevering in faith and action to the very end. May God enable us to do likewise.

Harry Potter's narrative journey (and implications for the Christian story)

It’s always interesting when a cultural artifact becomes a cultural phenomenon. There was not a lot of initial promotion for the first Harry Potter book, and expectations were modest. But somehow word of mouth buzz moved the series past a tipping point and Harry Potter became something larger. No longer was J. K. Rowling an unknown author laboring in obscurity. Now she's an international media celebrity, wealthier than the Queen of England, with millions of fans around the world clamoring for every word and detail about Harry.

This makes me wonder – what would it look like if we saw comparable levels of Harry Potter mania directed to the Christian story? It’s not like crowds are awaiting the next Bibleman DVD, or staying up all night to read Miroslav Volf’s newest book. Or Isaiah or Jeremiah, for that matter. Can you imagine people packing the streets of Ephesus in eager anticipation of the publication of part 2 of Luke/Acts? Or release parties in Corinth celebrating the receipt of Paul’s second epistle to them? Dress up like your favorite super-apostle!

I wonder if there have been times in church history when the gospel narrative was this gripping a cultural phenomenon. People probably wouldn’t be this crazy about Harry Potter if they had all grown up in a context where they had heard the Harry Potter stories so much that they no longer seemed fresh. The challenge for us in a post-Christendom era is that people have become anesthetized to the Christian story. They’ve heard it already, or they think they’ve heard it already. And it doesn’t capture their imagination the way today’s imaginative narratives have. In a world of Harry Potter, Star Wars, 24 and Heroes, it’s hard for the Christian story to compete.

Those of us who have been reading the Harry Potter novels as they were being published were able to experience something special that future generations of readers won’t – the anticipation and suspense of waiting several years between each book. From now on, new readers can read all seven books straight through if they want to. But for the past decade, Harry Potter readers have been part of a global community that has experienced the dramatic tension of waiting for the next installment.

I wonder what it would look like for the gospel story to be more suspenseful. I think one of the most significant aspects about the experience of reading the final Harry Potter book is that we didn’t want to hear spoilers. We had come to know and love the characters so much that wanted to journey with Harry and his friends. We needed to experience and discover for ourselves what they were going through. We didn’t want to find out in chapter two of book one how it was all going to turn out. Instead we read seven books and thousands of pages, staying up into the wee hours of the morning, because the journey is every bit as important as the ending. Indeed, without experiencing the adventure of the journey, there wouldn't have been as much dynamic power to the ending.

Are Christian “gospel presentations” less like the adventure of a Harry Potter novel and more like spoilers that tell you what happened but take all the suspense and delight out of the journey? Maybe Christians have been so intent on getting to the point and bottom-lining things, for the sake of saving souls, that they’ve taken the mystery and surprise out of the narrative. We jump to the end. God loves you, Jesus died for you, pray this prayer, yada yada yada.

It’s well-intentioned but self-defeating. We don’t get to know the characters, and so we diminish the experience and the power of the biblical narrative. Often we are so concerned about getting people from here to there that they don’t experience the journey enough to really make the faith their own. We have short-circuited the narrative imagination. What a loss.

Harry Potter reminds us that it's not just what we say, but how we say it. We can recover the imagination, a sense of wonder at a world of mystery and discovery. We can invite people to join us on a long-term experiential journey that’s full of twists and turns but nevertheless infused with hope. And we can enjoy the community of friends and mentors that accompany us along the way.

Harry Potter and the Cultural Imagination (No Spoilers!)

On the evening of Friday, July 20, I went to the Party That Must Not Be Named in our local suburb’s downtown area. A street had been blocked off, store names had been changed to reflect those found in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade, and several thousand Muggles (many in wizarding garb) gathered in celebrative anticipation of the biggest book release in history. I had not seen such an enthusiastic crowd since opening day of the last Lord of the Rings movie.

I had reserved a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows at a different local independent bookstore that wasn’t having a midnight release party, and because I was at a conference, I wasn’t able to pick it up until Sunday. I finished reading it late Tuesday night. Wednesday morning I gathered with several of my coworkers who had also finished the book and we debriefed and discussed for some time. One friend mentioned that she had reread all previous six books in anticipation of the final release, and that after finishing it, she would wake up in the mornings still thinking about all that had transpired.

I wasted several more hours in the following days reading online reviews and commentary about the book. I also happened to win a pack of movie tickets from dropping my business card in a jar, so Thursday night we used them to see Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Then this weekend I kept the kids occupied so Ellen could finish reading book 7, and we got together with friends after church to process the book and series. It’s fun to be part of a larger community of millions of readers and fans who are likewise enthralled with these stories.

The New York Times review said that "J.K. Rowling has created a world as fully detailed as L. Frank Baum’s Oz or J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle-earth, a world so minutely imagined in terms of its history and rituals and rules that it qualifies as an alternate universe – which may be one of the reasons the Potter books have spawned such a passionate following."

I think it’s significant that one aspect of the Potterverse is fan fiction where readers write their own alternate stories beyond the published canon and further explore what might be going on with their favorite characters. This seems to be the case of any well-developed imaginative universe, like Star Trek or Buffy. There’s so much more to explore. And the result is that consumers can become creators. We don’t just read the books or watch the movies and TV shows; we can enter into the stories and become participants in the act of cultural creation. It’s been a long-standing tradition in the comic book world that the best comic book writers and artists started out as comic book readers and fans.

All this reminds us that Christians shouldn’t be just consuming cultural narratives. We should be creating them. I recently read Tolkien’s The Children of Hurin, which reminded me again of Tolkien’s genius in creating an entire world of epic narrative, history and “true myth.” Ditto with C. S. Lewis’s Christian imagination applied to fantasy, science fiction and other writings. Ellen just read The Restorer, a Christian fantasy novel of a soccer mom pulled into a Lord-of-the-Rings-type world, where "keepers of the verses" are musicians who preserve their scriptures in song. Kudos to the author, Sharon Hinck, for creating such a universe.

We need more Christians engaged in culture-making enterprises, writing stories and weaving narratives that show (and not just tell) Christianity’s themes of redemption, incarnation and new creation. Several of our friends said that they wish they could have written the Harry Potter books. Well, why not? Perhaps someday some Harry Potter fan, inspired by Rowling’s example and also compelled by the Christian story, will weave a tale that will become an even greater cultural phenomenon than Harry Potter.

The cost of bottled water

I blogged earlier about avoiding bottled water for stewardship and ethical reasons. The latest issue of Fast Company has a gripping article about the bottled water industry, "Message in a Bottle," by Charles Fishman (author of the excellent book The Wal-Mart Effect). A blog post from urbana.org summarizes the main points:

• Last year, Americans spent $15 billion on bottled water -- more than we spent on movie tickets. This year that is expected to be $16 billion.
• Water is basically free, and for now more or less abundant in most of the U.S.
• Buying bottled water is essentially buying convenience (and bending to marketing messages).
• 24% of the bottled water Americans buy is repackaged tap water created by Coke and Pepsi.
• Americans drink more bottled water than milk, or coffee, or beer.
• Americans went through about 50 billion plastic water bottles last year, 167 for each person.
• Americans throw 38 billion water bottles a year into landfills. (Over $1 billion worth of plastic which could have been recycled -- only 1/4 of all the bottles are recycled by consumers).
• It's easier for most Americans to get as much drinking water from Fiji as they want, than it is for over half the people of Fiji, where the water is bottled yet safe drinking water for the local population is scarce.
• If the water we use at home were to cost what even the cheapest bottled water costs, our monthly water bills would run $9,000. (Point is: we pay a lot for what is available for almost nothing.)
• Most of the world's bottled water is dominated by four companies: Pepsi, Coke, Danone, and Nestle.
• Within a decade, American consumption of bottled water is expected to surpass soda. Maybe that's a good thing. Is that a good thing?
• One out of six people in the world does not have a safe, dependable source of drinking water. That's a billion people.
• Each day, 3,000 children die from diseases caught from tainted water.

This paragraph jumped out at me: "We buy bottled water because we think it's healthy. Which it is, of course: Every 12-year-old who buys a bottle of water from a vending machine instead of a 16-ounce Coke is inarguably making a healthier choice. But bottled water isn't healthier, or safer, than tap water. Indeed, while the United States is the single biggest consumer in the world's $50 billion bottled-water market, it is the only one of the top four--the others are Brazil, China, and Mexico--that has universally reliable tap water. Tap water in this country, with rare exceptions, is impressively safe."

And this line: "If you bought and drank a bottle of Evian, you could refill that bottle once a day for 10 years, 5 months, and 21 days with San Francisco tap water before that water would cost $1.35."

When I finished reading the article, my immediate response was to fill up a pitcher with tap water and put it in the fridge. And I had a nice glass of cold water with my lunch.

The Sound of Suburbia: The suburbs are noisy!

This from the New York Times. Acoustical engineers have found that suburbia is nearly as noisy as urban centers:

Their findings, delivered on June 8 in Salt Lake City at the 153rd biannual meeting of the Acoustical Society of America, indicate that the noise level in the average suburb is approaching the noise level in the average city.

“The level of noise in the urban and rural areas we tested remained pretty consistent with the 1970 E.P.A. figures” — about 59 decibels in the city and 43 in the country, Mr. Szymanski said.

But in the suburbs, the average ambient noise level was 56 decibels — a whisper less than the average noise level in the average city, and 7 decibels higher than it was in 1970.

According to a Census Bureau survey, noise is the #1 "neighborhood complaint," ahead of crime, odors and poor public services. Increased noise is a marker of increased housing and population density in suburban areas, with more cars, more roads, etc. As a result, suburban communities are enforcing noise ordinances, restricting noisy appliances like leaf blowers (95 to 105 decibels) and weed whackers (94 to 96 decibels). Ice cream trucks have been ticketed for playing annoying jingles, and mosques have been sued for calls to prayer.

Justice in the Burbs review

The new book Justice in the Burbs: Being the Hands of Jesus Wherever You Live by Will and Lisa Samson has just been released. I met Will a few years ago and just saw him a couple times in the past two weeks. Will is a doctoral student in sociology, and Lisa is an award-winning novelist in the Christian market. They both bring their skills and expertise to their joint book, half of which is an engaging fictional narrative about a suburban couple exploring justice issues, and the other alternating half is nonfiction exposition and commentary about the topics at hand. Here's a key paragraph:

. . . doing missions means doing the work of the kingdom wherever you are sent. And the best place to think about where you have been sent is to see where you are. God is a being of great economy. He works before you even realize it and before you sign on, and he's placed you where you are today for a reason. If you find yourself in the suburbs, welcome to your mission field.

The book, especially the later chapters, have lots of practical ideas for missional suburban living, in terms of better use of resources, decisions in eating and transportation, connecting with latchkey kids, practicing simplicity, purchasing fair trade, etc. They provide a realistic portrait of challenges and obstacles to suburban justice, and they point out that there is no "silver bullet" or "quick fix." Rather, justice requires commitment for the long haul and long-term investment in our neighborhoods and communities. This is itself countercultural considering how transient suburban culture is.

This book deserves a wide reading. The title is somewhat of a misnomer - the Samsons aren't just talking about suburban justice; they're really discussing the totality of holistic suburban life and discipleship. There's a danger that the book will read mostly by a self-selecting audience of those who are already concerned about justice issues. Really it's for any suburbanite who has a sense that the suburban life is not as it should be and that something must be done about it.

One minor quibble or critique is that despite the title, the majority of the narrative seems to focus on justice in urban contexts or rural settings, whether urban ministries or mountaintop mining issues. Comparatively less space is given to discussing justice in actual suburban areas. Much of the book seems to assume that most suburban Christians are fairly affluent and need to be investing themselves in justice issues elsewhere. While this may be true, I would have liked to have seen more material and analysis about the increasing issues of suburban poverty. I read an article recently about how food shelves in suburban areas have seen increased demand of 300% in recent years (while food pantries in urban contexts have had roughly the same amount of demand and need).

David Fitch argues that "new forms of poverty are taking over the suburbs as thousands have been talked into sub-prime mortgages and various other enslavements which leave them with little or no money for other necessities despite having a suburban home to live in." Julie Clawson made these perceptive comments on David's blog:

Out here in the far west Chicago suburbs I see this all the time. Kendall County is the third fastest growing county in the nation. We have tons of those cheaply built cookie-cutter homes that create the "house poor" culture out here. We are too rich as a county to get any government aid, so social services are nonexistent.

I see this with the moms in playgroup all the time. They got the house but they have no connection to anything. No phone, no TV, no internet. Their husbands won't give them money for gas so they are stuck in their big homes with no connection to anyone. More and more these moms are "homeschooling" (no real education, just basically having the kids at home) so they they don't have to pay all the fees of public school (which are quite hefty out here). If our playgroup happens to meet on their block they show up and stay hours longer because they are desperate for some contact with people.

Every other house in some of these 2-3 year old neighborhoods has a "for sale" (read foreclosure) sign on it. I've heard countless stories of the men just disappearing to escape it all and leaving the mom who has been out of the workforce for a number of years stranded with a few kids, a big house, and a lot of debt.

These are real issues of suburban injustice - predatory lending, lack of social services, as well as denial on the part of local municipalities regarding suburban poverty and homelessness. I hope that readers of Justice in the Burbs will be motivated and mobilized to pursue justice at home in their suburban neighborhoods as well as wherever God may lead them - urban, rural, global, wherever!

The Travels of a T-Shirt in the Global Economy

The book The Travels of a T-Shirt in the Global Economy came out a few years ago but I just now have gotten around to reading it. If you liked books like Fast Food Nation or Nickel and Dimed, you'll appreciate the narrative approach in this book. Author Pietra Rivoli takes readers on a whirlwind tour of the life cycle of a T-shirt, from cotton farms in Texas to factories in China as well as lobbyists and interest groups arguing in the halls of Congress and how shirts are reused after being donated to Salvation Army bins. It's a fascinating read, and it heightens the complexity of economics and consumer choices in a globalized world.

The author gives an unvarnished portrait of worker conditions in factory sweatshops, but also provides historical perspective and shows how things are actually much better today than they have been in many comparable eras of history. She also argues that the main problems in international trade are not with the markets, but with the politics that govern them.

Lots of fascinating tidbits. From the cotton farming side: It takes about a third of a pound of cotton to make a T-shirt, about fifteen cents' worth. Did you know that cottonseed oil is used in peanut butter, spaghetti sauce, Girl Scout cookies and almost any kind of crispy snack food, like chips? It's also used in soaps and detergents. The meal from cottonseeds is used to feed horses, hogs, chickens, sheep and catfish. And leftover cotton fuzz is sold to be used in throw pillows, candlewicks, twine, medical supplies and tree-free toilet paper. Nothing goes to waste.

At the Chinese factories: Yes, it's low pay, long hours, poor working conditions, cramped living quarters, etc. But it's steady pay and far better than rural life on the farm, which is usually more backbreaking and has little financial return or security. Rivoli notes that generations of activists have "changed the rules of the race and raised the bottom, making it a much better place than it used to be." Young women now have more financial options and are less likely to be trapped in poverty or prostitution.

When Americans clean out their closets and donate old clothes to charity (to make room for an endless stream of new clothes), most of the clothes are bundled off and sold to exporters, who cull through them for items that can be sold to particular markets. A vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt can go for $300 in the collector's market. Mickey Mouse T-shirts and Levis jeans are sold to Japanese markets. The clothes are further divided. Some can be resold in bulk, usually to Africa, in huge bales containing several thousand articles of clothing. These eventually find their way to local entrepreneurs in village marketplaces, where a newish Gap shirt might go for $3.00, but shirts from family reunions and fun runs go two for a penny. Other shirts are cut and made into rags, or shredded into "shoddy," which can become raw material for carpet pads, mattresses, insulation and low-grade yarn that can be remade into cheap clothing. Again, nothing is wasted.

The sheer size of the textile industry is staggering, especially the amount of clothing that is purchased and discarded every year. Rivoli notes that American women buy far more new clothes than men and also throw away more clothes as well - bales arriving from the Salvation Army contain two or three times as much women's clothing as men's. Men not only buy less clothing but wear it longer, so the men's clothes that are donated are usually in more ragtag shape than women's clothing. So Western purchases provide the overseas resale market with about seven times more women's clothing in good condition than men's.

Reading this book made me think through my own closets. I rarely buy new clothes, and I tend to only buy to replace something that has worn out. I rotate through maybe five or six dress shirts and three main pairs of Dockers or slacks, and I own three pairs of shoes - brown shoes for the office, black shoes for special occasions and white Reeboks for everything else. In terms of T-shirts, I only buy shirts to commemorate particular events (Urbana or the 2008 Beijing Olympics, for example), and I often find myself getting new shirts for free from trade shows or whatever. I'm pretty ambivalent about my clothing, mostly because these days I don't care a whole lot about fashion or what I look like, as long as things are clean and functional. Even though my default setting is to purchase as little as possible, it's worth remembering that every purchase does at least benefit some worker in some factory (and various middlemen along the way), and discarded, donated clothing also benefits not only some local charity but probably some entrepreneurial merchant in some village overseas. Such is the interconnected nature of global commerce, for good and for bad.

The Small-Mart Revolution

This weekend I finished reading The Small-Mart Revolution: How Local Businesses Are Beating the Global Competition by Michael Shuman. The book documents how it is far healthier for local communities and economies when people buy and shop at locally owned businesses. Dollars that are spent at independent mom-and-pop stores tend to be recycled throughout the community with other local vendors, while dollars spent at big box and chain stores tend to be siphoned away to corporate headquarters and national or multinational vendors.

What's interesting is that I was reading this book while in a small town in Wisconsin for a family reunion on my wife's side of the family. Just before the reunion I took our younger son to a local haircut place for a haircut, and while we were out we browsed several local independent bookstores and bought a few items there. I also got a carwash at a fundraiser in a local church's parking lot. The Small-Mart book was on my mind, so I was feeling virtuous about supporting this small town's local economy with my out-of-town dollars.

But then I noticed that I was more intentional about buying locally as an out-of-town visitor than I am at home, where it's all too easy to buy at chains for convenience reasons. Or at least in some ways rather than others. I never shop at Wal-Mart and pretty much always shop at Target. But Shuman isn't impressed with Target either (though it's better). It's just hard to consciously go to independents for everyday supplies.

But we can all pick certain areas that we'll be intentional in. While at ICRS last week, my friend Jana happened to ask me where I'm purchasing my copy of the last Harry Potter book, and I told her I was going to buy it from a local independent bookstore that carries both used and new books. The thrifty shopper in me is tempted by Target, which is selling Harry Potter for almost half off the cover price, but I happen to have some used book trade-in credit at the independent bookstore that can be applied to a new book. So I get the best of both worlds - supporting a local retailer and getting a bargain. (But I'm not sure if I'll be able to go to any midnight Harry Potter parties since the Midwest Emergent Gathering is taking place this same weekend.)

Recycling bins and volunteering

Trade shows and conventions are notorious for being expensive and wasteful. A bottle of water costs $4.00, and there aren't usually any recycling bins around, so all the plastic just ends up in the garbage. But here at ICRS this week, Ampelon Publishing has placed recycling bins around the convention center so that recyclables can be collected. Ampelon is the publisher of Tri Robinson's book Saving God's Green Earth: Rediscovering the Church's Responsibility to Environmental Stewardship. Ampelon's recycling bins are a refreshing contrast to all the various promotional giveaways on the sales floor. I was very encouraged to see a publisher live out their book's message in such a practical way. Support them and buy their book!

And a random item from USA Today:

If you live in Minneapolis, Salt Lake City or Austin, you're more likely to volunteer in your community than if you live in other metro areas, says a report out today by the Corporation for National and Community Service. It's not that people in those cities are necessarily kinder or gentler. They just have the right circumstances for volunteering: They feel connected to their communities, have more education, own their own homes, spend less time commuting and have more opportunities to give back, the report says.

Residents of cities where people spend a lot of time commuting or live in apartments, by contrast, tend to feel less connected to their communities, so they don't volunteer as much. Cities that ranked lowest are New York, Miami and Las Vegas. Residents of rural areas volunteer more than urban areas, the report says.

This correlates well with what Robert Putnam reported, that the more commuting you do, the less time you have for civic involvement or community service. To the extent that suburbia tends to be a commuter culture, suburban Christians should be aware of how commuting tends to diminish volunteering. (I was glad to see that my hometown of Minneapolis-St. Paul ranked #1 in the study, with 40.5% of residents doing volunteer work. Chicago ranks #32, with 27.4%. Last on the list at #50 is Las Vegas with 14.4%. See the article for the full list.)

The 2007 Christian Book Awards go to . . .

Ellen and I attended the CBA/ECPA Christian Book Awards ceremony last night, which is the Christian publishing world's equivalent of the Oscars or Emmys. IVP had three finalists: Praying by J. I. Packer and Carolyn Nystrom in the Inspiration & Gift category, The IVP Atlas of Bible History in the Bible Reference & Study category, and Finding God Beyond Harvard by Kelly Monroe Kullberg in the Christian Life category. I was particularly excited about Kelly's book being a finalist because I was the project editor for that book, and the other books in the category were by folks like Philip Yancey, Bill Hybels, Larry Crabb and John Piper. Quite the competition, and it's an honor just to be in the running.

And we were thrilled to find out that one of our books won in its category! The winners are:

Bibles: Archaeological Study Bible NIV (Zondervan)
Bible Reference & Study: The IVP Atlas of Bible History by Paul Lawrence (InterVarsity Press)
Children & Youth: Sexy Girls by Hayley DiMarco (Revell/Baker)
Inspiration & Gift: Pearls of Great Price by Joni Eareckson Tada (Zondervan)
Christian Life: What Jesus Demands from the World by John Piper (Crossway)
Fiction: When Crickets Cry by Charles Martin (Thomas Nelson)
ECPA Christian Book of the Year: Ever After by Karen Kingsbury (Zondervan)

(Last year a 900-page dictionary of theological interpretation won the book of the year, and they changed the rules so that any of the finalists in any of the six categories could be book of the year. Sales numbers are now weighed as one of the factors in determining the overall winner. Which is why a theological dictionary did not win this year.)

In addition, Packer & Nystrom's Praying also won a Logos Book Award from the Logos Bookstores chain in the Devotional/Spirituality category. Congrats to the authors!

Hi from the International Christian Retail Show, Atlanta

After a horribly long travel day with all sorts of delays and frustrations, I'm in Atlanta now for the International Christian Retail Show, where Christian retailers, book publishers, music labels, gift companies and the like gather to buy, sell, order and promote new Christian stuff. Every year visitors and observers try to identify the most outrageous Jesus junk to ridicule, whether it's Jesus bobbleheads with glow-in-the-dark miracle healing hands or whatever. It's always interesting to browse and see what new books are being released. Here are a few random things that caught my eye today:

An Emergent Manifesto of Hope, edited by Tony Jones and Doug Pagitt, which came out a few months ago. Chatted with both of them briefly here and lamented with Tony that his paper won't be included in IVP's Wheaton Theology Conference compendium.

Jerusha Clark's Inside a Cutter's Mind: Understanding and Helping Those Who Self-Injure. I had e-mailed and talked with Jerusha in the past, but it was nice to connect in person.

Chatted with Lori Smith, author of The Single Truth, which quotes my book Singles at the Crossroads. She told me that she was one of my fans, and I said, "I have fans?" Lori is also the author of the forthcoming A Walk with Jane Austen: A Journey into Adventure, Love, and Faith. She told me that to research the book, she traveled to visit key locations in Jane Austen's life and saw her birthplace, house and gravesite. Sounds fascinating.

A few months back, during the whole Youth Specialties/Skit Guys controversy, I interacted online with Christian Asian American chick lit author Camy Tang. Her new book Sushi for One? just debuted here at the show. At her signing, her publisher handed out chopsticks as well as fortune cookies that said inside, 'You will receive a fortune (cookie)."

The Giant Leaf by Davy Liu, a Taiwanese American illustrator and animator who has worked on classic Disney films like Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, The Lion King and Mulan. This children's book is a fresh retelling of a familiar story, and it has fantastic art. Check it out.

The floor just closed, so I'll wrap up. More later.

Sojourners: "Jesus of the Cul-de-Sac"

The July 07 issue of Sojourners magazine has a fine article by Valerie Weaver-Zercher called "Jesus of the Cul-de-Sac," in which she probes the challenges and opportunities of the suburban landscape, especially as it relates to discipleship, poverty and justice issues. I was interviewed by the writer and we had a good chat about our respective suburban journeys. Here's an excerpt from the article:

Even if certain distinctions still exist, "every place—city, country, suburb—is more diverse than we generally like to imagine," says Al Hsu, author of the recent book The Suburban Christian. The increasing complexity of the metropolitan terrain, along with its sprawling ubiquity, raises disturbing questions for Christians who live there. If where we live forms who we are, and if where we live is largely commercial, alienated, status-driven, and car-dependent, is it even possible to be a faithful Christian here? Was my 20something instinct correct: that justice-seeking Christianity can only be practiced in the few remaining places that are either clearly "wilderness" or "city"?

Hsu doesn't think so. He and the authors of two other recent or forthcoming books on Christianity and the suburbs (David Goetz in Death by Suburb and Will and Lisa Samson in Justice in the Burbs) suggest that suburbia, while potentially dangerous to one's faith commitments, can also be, in Hsu's words, a "crucible … [in which] to learn the Christian disciplines of self-denial, simplicity, and generosity." Each of these authors examines answers to the question that Will Samson articulated in a recent interview: "What does it mean to be followers of Jesus after the death of the suburban narrative?"

This story of suburbia, forged in post-World War II optimism about economic betterment, security, land ownership, and social mobility, holds mythic power in Americans' imagination. People move to the suburbs for a host of reasons, but the move almost always represents a "spiritual quest," according to Hsu, with suburbia as "the setting for the fulfillment of people's hopes and dreams." Several generations into the experiment, some suburbanites aren't buying the story anymore. It didn't take Desperate Housewives to convince Americans that the suburbs are often sites of profound despair, social alienation, and hollow status-seeking; many suburbanites were figuring it out for themselves.

The article goes on to explore how Christians can seek to live faithfully in suburbia. I was particularly struck by this quote from Jenell Paris: "Living in the suburbs can be an exercise in humility," she says. "It is an unremarkable place to live. Your attempts to care for struggling people may get fewer accolades from fellow Christians [than people who work in the city]." And despite the many secular jeremiads and critiques of suburbia, a distinctive that Christians bring is hope. Because Christians have a theology of redemption, there is hope for the suburbs, just as there is hope for the city and hope for the country. May our suburban neighborhoods be visibly transformed by that hope.

Reflections on Psalm 23: "I shall not want" and nature deficit disorder

We don't go to the mall very often, but this weekend we stopped by our local mall for a food court dinner. And being there reinforced once again how easy it is to be a consumer in our society. Hey, a Cinnabon sounds good. Maybe a pretzel. Look, a coconut creme latte. And that's just the food court - never mind the stores themselves. I dropped into a gaming store and glanced at enticing new Heroclix and Star Wars miniatures before fleeing.

Several years ago while having a personal retreat experience, I meditated on Psalm 23, and even though it's such a familiar passage, the line "I shall not want" jumped out at me in a fresh way. It occurred to me that there's so much that I want. I want to try a new Frappucino flavor. I want to pick up some more comic books. I want season 3 of Lost to come out on DVD sooner. Sometimes it's material stuff, but often it's not - I want my kids to behave better, I want more time to read, I want clarity on some decisions. Regardless, I want this or that. And the psalmist says, "I shall not want."

Of course, the notion behind not wanting is directly tied to God's identity as shepherd - his provision, his protection, his guidance and care. It's because God is truly our shepherd that we truly lack for nothing. And it occurs to me that a direct implication of this is that not only should we not want, but that we should also be channels of provision for those who are in want. Just like a key practical implication of the Lord's Prayer is that if God has provided for our own daily bread, then we should extend that prayer to others who do not have daily bread and see if there are ways that we can provide daily bread for them.

Also this weekend I read an article about "nature deficit disorder" (a term popularized by Richard Louv’s book Last Child in the Woods) and the fact that our kids spend far more time indoors playing with video games and electronics than they do outside in nature. In response, there are movements now advocating "No Child Left Inside" to get kids playing outdoors. And it occurs to me that there's a direct connection between verse 1 and verse 2 of Psalm 23. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. And how exactly does the Lord shepherd me? He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters.

In other words, he gets us out into his good creation. For those of us surrounded by suburban consumer culture of malls and big box stores, one of the main ways that we can counteract consumer covetousness is to enjoy the natural world that God has created. We can go for walks in the woods, play in parks, breathe fresh air. That's a primary way that he restores our souls. So Ellen and I took the kids for a walk last night, and we chatted with some neighbors and played hide-and-seek in the park. That was more restorative to our souls than any consumer purchase we could have made. Thanks be to God.

Book discussion chapter 5: Branding and identity

L. L. Barkat and Charity Singleton have blogged about chapter 5 of The Suburban Christian, which is called "Status Check: How Consuming and Branding Shape Our Identity." I don't mention this in the book, but one of the things that most convicted me about brand identities and consumer culture was a speaker at Urbana 93 that mentioned how more people in the world know the name of Coca-Cola than the name of Jesus. That got me thinking about how much consumer brand identities dominate our lives. Charity makes these observations:

I think corporate branding has made us all a little lazy in how we get to know and evaluate the world and the people in it. Rather than creating our own aesthetic style in how we dress and decorate our homes, we simply shop at the Gap or Pottery Barn. And rather than taking the time to explore the character and history of our neighbors, we identify them as the man with the blue Suburban, or the family with the matching Trek bicycles.

I consider myself fairly unbranded; I buy a lot of products in bulk from a locally owned grocery store, or from farmers whose agri-businesses don't even have names. But I still identify myself with brand names when I tell people I listen to National Public Radio and shop at Trader Joe's. I don't tell them this so they can know my listening or shopping habits. I tell them this so they'll know what "type" of person I am.

As a fellow NPR listener, I resonate with Charity's comment. Branding in some ways is inescapable. But we can certainly do our best to minimize the power branding has over us, especially in terms of how it shapes our identity and sense of self-worth and status. In many ways, our consumption shapes our identity. (One of the easiest ways to decode someone's self-perception and identity is to look at the magazines on their coffee table. They usually point to identities that we desire or communities that we aspire to be part of.) The challenge is for our Christian identity to shape our consumer identities, not the other way around.

To be honest, this is the one chapter of the book I wasn't sure about including. I had plenty of stuff to say about consumer culture and it didn't seem to all fit in chapter 4, so some of it morphed into chapter 5. And my company happened to be in the midst of a rebranding process, so I had been reading up on the topic of brand identities and was thinking about a lot of these things. (Even as I resist branding in some areas of my life, I've been a diehard InterVarsity Press brand loyalist for years, buying books simply because they said IVP on the spine.) At any rate, the content is there for whatever it's worth, and I hope folks find it helpful. I'll leave you with a few questions for self-reflection or discussion:

- What sense of self-identity or community is shaping how you consume?
- How are your consumer choices shaping your identity?
- What magazines are on your coffee table, and what purchases have you made because of them?
- What brand stories or images have you bought into?
- Has a particular Christian conviction led you to change any of your patterns of consumption?
- Has your church or Christian community helped you be more accountable in your consumer choices?
- How might your church wield its collective consuming power more Christianly?

P.S. Charity also posted a follow-up to her comments on chapter 3 about commuter culture, with great observations about her experiences using the bus.

On reading Tolkien and the significance of names

I'm reading the "new" Tolkien novel The Children of Hurin. Reading Tolkien is much like visiting another country - it takes a while to get acclimated to the culture and the language, but after a bit you get used to all the local names and references. Here are the opening sentences: "Hador Goldenhead was a lord of the Edain and well-beloved by the Eldar. He dwelt while his days lasted under the lordship of Fingolfin, who gave to him wide lands in that region of Hithlum which was called Dor-lomin. His daughter Gloredhel wedded Haldir son of Halmir, lord of the Men of Brethel; and at the same feast his son Galdor the Tall wedded Hareth, the daughter of Halmir." Whew. Fortunately, there's a glossary of names in the back.

Tolkien often sounds reminiscent of biblical narratives, which makes me think that for many newcomers to Scripture, reading the Bible may well feel as challenging as reading Tolkien. Both take a little while to get into. One of my colleagues has read The Lord of the Rings a dozen times or more, and he has a far better grasp on Tolkien's world than those of us who have read The Lord of the Rings just once. That's an argument for multiple readings of Scripture, even of familiar texts. My temptation is often to assume that I know what the Bible says since I've read it already, in a been-there-done-that kind of way.

One theme that emerges in the novel is the importance of names. Tolkien was a philologist and loved developing languages and names. The protagonist, Turin, changes his named identity almost every chapter depending on the context - when a fugitive with some outlaws, he gives his name as Neithan ("the Wronged"); in Nargothrond he is known as Agarwaen (the "Bloodstained"), and he is also called Adanedhel (the "Elf-man") and Mormegil ("Black Sword"). At a low point in his journey he calls himself Turambar, "Master of Doom."

Almost every character has multiple names or alternate titles - Turin's friend Beleg of Doriath is called Cuthalion ("Strongbow"); Hurin, Lord of Dor-lomin, is also called Thalion ("the Steadfast"). Morgoth is also Melkor or Bauglir ("the Constrainer"). Turin reveals himself to an old friend by using a name for him that only the two of them knew.

This makes me think about our contemporary practice of having multiple screen names or e-mail addresses. Sometimes lack of availability of a given name necessitates that we find an alternative. Other times we hide behind pseudonyms in an attempt to be anonymous. Some names are our own choosing, while others are chosen for us. Some reflect our self-perception of the present or experiences from the past, while others reflect our hopes or aspirations for the future. I find it significant that names' meanings often influence our destinies - I don't think it's a coincidence that Martin Luther King Jr. is named after the Reformer Martin Luther, or that Bill Clinton's middle name is Jefferson. In many cultures, the meaning of your name reflects your parents' hopes for you, which is why many Chinese kids are named Grace or Joy. (The flip side of this is the lamentable practice of babies being named after celebrities or corporate entities like Pepsi, Ikea or Lexus.)

I think Tolkien may well have understood our desire to inhabit multiple personae, to have different identities in different contexts. But Tolkien would probably tell us that our true identities always emerge. In one scene, Finduilas the daughter of Orodreth says to Turin, "I do not think that Agarwaen is your name, nor is it fit for you, Adanedhel. I call you Thurin, the Secret." At this Turin is startled, because Thurin of course sounds very much like his true name. Then later Turin's friend Gwindor reveals Turin's identity to Finduilas, and Turin rebukes Gwindor: "You have done ill to me, friend, to betray my right name, and call down my doom upon me, from which I would lie hid."

But Gwindor answered: "The doom lies in yourself, not in your name." In other words, whatever name Turin travels under and is hiding under, he can't escape who he is.

When characters are renamed, it seems to indicate a move from a false self to a true self, like Strider the ranger is really Aragorn, the High King. This is a pattern that certainly echoes biblical epics, as Jacob is renamed Israel, Simon bar Jonah becomes known as Cephas or Peter, and Saul becomes Paul. And Revelation suggests that we, too, will receive new names.

So maybe the lesson for us is to consider what names we hide behind, and what names describe who we truly are. When I was a kid, I was always "Albert," which meant "bright and noble" but felt kind of nerdy and geeky, since it always made people think of Albert Einstein. So in high school, I decided to go by "Al," which means "cheerful one" and reflected more of my self-perception. After grad school, when I started writing for publication, I always went by "Albert Y. Hsu," because it sounded more distinguished and dignified. (I wished for cool theological initials like C. S. Lewis, J. R. R. Tolkien, F. F. Bruce or J. I. Packer.)

But most people don't know me as "Albert" - that's too formal and stuffy. I'm just Al. So that's what's on my blog, my business card and the church directory. My Chinese name, Hsu Yihao, is more interesting - the characters mean "promise," "greatness" and "full," so all together it means "filled with great promise." So, maybe that's not as cool-sounding as Fingolfin, son of Finwe, High King of the Noldor, but it's something to live up to.

Father's Day reflections: Special needs, special love

[The following is an article that I was asked to write for BeNotAfraid.net, an online resource for parents who get prenatal diagnoses of various scary medical conditions. It's a great site with many moving and encouraging stories.]

Halfway into our second pregnancy, my wife, Ellen, and I were alerted that our unborn child had certain “abnormalities.” The doctor doing the ultrasound pointed out physical markers that seemed to indicate possible club feet, cleft palate, problems with the spine and vital organs. He suspected Trisomy 13 or 18, genetic conditions that were “incompatible with life.” He told us, “Based on this information, you can decide to terminate the pregnancy.”

We were stunned. Our first pregnancy had had no problems, and we had delivered a healthy son, Josiah. What had gone wrong this time? Would we be planning for a funeral rather than a birth?

We had an amniocentesis done, at which point they confirmed that our son would have Down syndrome, Trisomy 21. On the one hand, we were relieved that this was not as serious as the other more life-threatening conditions. On the other hand, we still faced uncertainty, likely many medical challenges, perhaps a lifetime of special needs care. We talked with a colleague who has a granddaughter with Down syndrome, and he mentioned that his first reaction was that his daughter and son-in-law may never have an empty nest. We also heard a statistic that about 90% of couples who have a prenatal diagnosis of Down syndrome choose to terminate.

We are prolife Christians, and our default ethic is to “do no harm.” We were not inclined to abort our child. But what would it mean to bring our son to term? What would it be like to raise a child with special needs? We had no idea.

We started reading books and resources about Down syndrome. We learned that about half of all babies with Down syndrome have heart conditions that require surgery. We read about the physical and mental challenges, the developmental delays, the need for early intervention and ongoing therapies. It was overwhelming. But we also learned that life with Down syndrome was not as scary as we had initially supposed. Because of better care and medical knowledge today, most people with Down syndrome can expect to have long and fruitful lives.

While learning about all of this, it occurred to me that many children throughout history in various cultures around the world had been abandoned because of having special needs. Orphanages in China and many other countries continue to take in unwanted children, and there are never enough adoptive families to meet the need.

Historically, Christians were known for rescuing abandoned babies and raising them as their own. In the early centuries of the church, Christians practiced love and hospitality, welcoming little children into their homes that would otherwise not have survived. Others said of these Christians, “They alone know the right way to live.” Their testimony of lives of compassion showed the world that God was real. Their love for the abandoned and marginalized was a concrete sign of God’s love for all of humanity.

Ellen and I realized that we had the same opportunity as those early Christians to demonstrate that same experience of God’s love. If our son had been born in other circumstances, he may well have been one of those unloved, unwanted children. He could have been abandoned along the side of a road, or thrown into a river to die. As prolife Christians, how could we not welcome this child? Come what may, regardless of whatever challenges were in store, we understood that welcoming our son was a God-given opportunity to practice the same kind of hospitality and love that Christians throughout the ages had been known for.

Even though we were already inclined to continue the pregnancy, we made a conscious choice to bring him to term and welcome him with all love and care. While he was still in utero, we decided to name him so that he was not merely an abstract concept but a named son, a real person. So we gave him the name Elijah Timothy – Elijah being a Hebrew Old Testament name meaning “The Lord is God,” and Timothy being a Greek New Testament name meaning “one who honors God.” It was our prayer that his life would honor the Lord our God, and also that we and many others would learn to love and honor God through our son’s life.

Elijah was born three weeks early on April 8, 2005. He spent several weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit as he adjusted to life on the outside. Many of the initial fears proved unfounded – he had no major organ defects, club feet or cleft palate. A minor heart valve issue resolved on its own, and the only surgery he has needed was for ear tubes. Life has been a bit more complicated than usual with multiple doctors and therapists and whatnot, but nothing unmanageable. We now cannot imagine life without Elijah.

As I write this, Elijah is a rambunctious two-year-old toddler who is always on the go. He loves to watch his Signing Time DVDs and communicates with us through a vocabulary of dozens of sign language words. He pages through his board books and signs words for pictures he recognizes. He sat in my lap briefly as I typed this, gave me a hug, smiled and laughed before scurrying off to play.

This Father’s Day, I am grateful for the gift that God has given our family through our son Elijah. It is not exactly the life we had anticipated or expected, but it is a life of joy and blessing. As we grow in our love for him, we are delighted to see his love and affection for us. And if we mere mortals have such love for our special child, how much more must God’s immeasurable love be for us! Elijah’s presence in our lives is a visible reminder that all life is sacred and that all of us are beloved by God.

When death strikes: Moving beyond the "why?" questions

Yesterday Ellen and I attended a funeral for a woman who died suddenly last week, leaving behind her husband and six children. The service was very much a worship service to God and a strong testimony to her vibrant Christian faith. Heartbreaking, though, to hear the sobs of one of her children who cried throughout the service.

The message took as its starting point the various "why?" questions - Why did she go so suddenly? Why now? Why did God let this happen? And so on. The pastor pursued this line of thinking for a while and said many typical things, including Romans 8:28, which is often cited in situations like this. And all of this left me slightly uneasy.

I've been realizing over the past few years that the "why?" questions are often rabbit trails. When bad things happen, we automatically ask why, as if finding out the answers will give us comfort and peace. We assume that the problem of suffering is an intellectual one, and that finding answers to the why question will clear things up. I don't think they actually do. In some cases, a specific answer to a why question just compounds guilt and blame. Why did he die of cancer? Well, he had a bad diet and didn't exercise. Or he lived in a toxic, carcinogenic environment. Well, what then? Knowing the answers to why questions doesn't necessarily bring us any comfort or hope.

Why questions are ultimately unanswerable. Or they can be answered quite simply, even if much is left to mystery. Why this suffering? Why this death? The simple answer: It's a fallen world. The world is broken. Bad things happen. People die. If we really want answers to the why questions, that's where they take us.

I find it very instructive that the New Testament writers don't really probe the why questions. They don't pose intellectual questions regarding the origins of the problem of suffering and evil. That's because they took for granted that they were living in a fallen world where sickness and death were normative. Why questions are modern questions, not biblical ones. We have the philosophical luxury of living in a context where suffering is unusual (and avoided). But for the vast majority of human history, death and suffering are simply the default. Everybody suffers. Everybody dies. Nobody has to ask why this happens - it just does.

The far more significant question, from a Christian standpoint, is not "Why?" but "What is God doing about it?" This is N. T. Wright's line of argument in his recent excellent book Evil and the Justice of God. He says that Scripture ultimately does not answer the why questions. But far more important is God's answer to the question "What has God done about evil, death and suffering?" And the answer there is that God has decisively acted in the person of Jesus Christ. Through Jesus' death and resurrection, God has triumphed over the power of death. He has disarmed the powers and principalities. God is redeeming all of creation. He is making all things new. He is creating a new heavens and a new earth. He is wiping away every tear.

After my father's death by suicide, I wrestled with the why questions to the point of exhaustion. And as I wrote in Grieving a Suicide, I concluded that God's answer to the problems of suffering, evil and death is not some abstract philosophical response, but decisive action. Death has lost its sting. Death itself will die. That is the heart of the Christian faith - not merely that we are going to heaven when we die, but bodily resurrection that we shall be raised to new life. As a traditional Easter liturgy puts it, "By dying he destroyed our death; by rising he restored our life."

Pastorally, we certainly stand with those who grieve and ask the why questions. But let's not dwell there indefinitely. Let's focus on what God has done in Christ. As Ruth Padilla Eldrenkamp wrote after the murder of her husband: "Brokenness is not the end of the story. Our pain is deep, but it is not all-encompassing; our loss is enormous, but it is not eternal; and death is our enemy but it does not have the final word."

Suburban blues: Teens, depression and anxiety

A few months back I came across a Psychology Today article about suburban teens and their relative propensity for depression, anxiety and substance abuse. Here's an excerpt:

A report from the suburbs has some surprising news about children growing up in the culture of affluence. It's a longitudinal study and the interesting finding is that the kids have a multitude of adjustment problems. The surprise is that they often have more problems than age-matched kids growing up in the inner city—and their problems persist despite the mental health services presumably available to them.

Beyond a certain point, the researchers found, the pursuit of status and material wealth by high-earning families (say, $120,000 and above) tends to leave skid marks on the kids, but in ways you might not have expected. Affluent suburban high schoolers not only smoke more, drink more, and use more hard drugs than typical high schoolers do—they do so more than a comparison group of inner-city kids. In addition, they have much higher rates of anxiety and, in general, higher rates of depression.

Among affluent suburban girls, rates of depression skyrocket—they are three times more likely than average teen girls to report clinically significant levels of depression. And for all problems, the troubles seem to start in the seventh grade. Before then, the affluent kids do well.

Interestingly, among the upper-middle-class suburban kids, but not among the inner-city kids, use of alcohol and drugs is linked with depression and anxiety. That raises the possibility that substance use is an attempt to self-medicate.

The article goes on to say that achievement pressures and emotional isolation from parents are some of the main factors. Parental career ambitions erode family togetherness, and frazzled schedules shuttling from one activity to another reinforce a performance mentality. High-income families have less parental accessibility and family time together than lower-income families. Affluent families can more easily afford mental health services and professional help for their children, but the irony is that this often merely outsources care and doesn't improve family attachments.

One antidote recommended by the article - eating dinner together most nights with at least one parent present. This single factor was the best predictor of teen adjustment and school performance. So let's spend more time together at the dinner table! Our kids' mental health may depend on it.

Reflections on vacations, leisure and play

We're back from a week in Hawaii, celebrating our tenth anniversary. (People told us that we didn't look old enough to have been married ten years. Kind of cool.) Ellen had been to Hawaii for a Continentals trip one summer during college; my only time there before was a stop at the Honolulu airport on my way to Taiwan years ago. This was basically our first non-work-related trip by ourselves since our kids were born.

We were on four of the islands: Oahu, Hawaii, Maui and Kauai. We visited Volcanoes National Park, Waimea Canyon, Pearl Harbor and various waterfalls and beaches. Fantastic weather, of course, apart from a brief rainshower on Kauai while we were at a fern grotto on the Wailua River. (I am incapable of appreciating nature without taking pictures; I took over 800 pictures during the week. See some of the pictures here.)

Part of me was conflicted about the expense of the trip. At times it felt rather self-indulgent to be spending all this money on ourselves. So much of the tourist experience is bound up with consumption and consumerism of some form or another, whether of tours or meals or knickknacks. The sheer number of tourist trap shops, by their very ubiquity, sucked us into buying souvenirs and gifts that we probably didn't really need. (One odd sighting - at Pearl Harbor, our tour guide made the point that this was a memorial, not an attraction, that we should be sober in remembering those who died there. But in the gift shop, there were things like a U.S.S. Arizona Memorial Rubik's Cube. Weird.)

On the flight home, I started wondering to myself, "What's a Christian approach to vacations?" It occurred to me that there aren't biblical examples of vacations per se. Not really the kind of thing that nomadic Ancient Near Eastern peoples had the luxury of taking. But while Scripture doesn't talk about "vacations," it certainly speaks much about sabbath. And Christian tradition would certainly acknowledge a theology and spirituality of sabbath rest as a regular rhythm of reconnecting with God, others and the world around us.

Early on in my experience as a parent, I realized that my young son was helping me rediscover the delight and joy of play. Child development folks talk about the importance of unstructured play. I realized that perhaps just as important as meaningful work is meaningful play. In our workaholic society, sabbath rest, play and leisure can be countercultural (as long as they don't become idols of their own).

So anyway, we thoroughly enjoyed our trip, not only as a time for celebrating our marriage but also as an opportunity to experience God's good creation, to see oceans and mountains and lava flows. The best moments were not spent in gift shops, but swimming or hiking and delighting in the world God created. My theory is that in the fullness of the kingdom of God and the new heavens and the new earth, all of the physical locations of the entire world will be redeemed, restored and preserved for continued exploration and enjoyment. After all, his creation is all very good, and there's no way we can get to everything in this lifetime. So I hope and expect that we'll have all eternity to travel and visit all the places that we have always wanted to visit - and see them in all their beauty and glory, the way God intended them to be.