We Need To Stop Trying

by Ben Howard

I'm currently lying in my bed staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling fan is whirring on high and jostling slightly from side to side. This was worrying to me originally, but it's been doing that for more than a year so I feel safe assuming that it's not about to break off and collapse into the middle of my floor.

On the other hand, that would give me something to write about.

I'm staring at the ceiling trying to think of ideas. What's funny? What's interesting? Will anyone read it? Does it need to be said? How could I make the story of my ceiling fan collapsing on top of me into a theological metaphor?

This process, this whole staring at the ceiling and hoping for inspiration process, this is not working.

I need to stop thinking so hard.

---

During my first semester in grad school, one of my professors gave us an article to read in class. I think it was by Dallas Willard, but I can't be sure. The article addressed why it was so difficult to re-create successful ministries in the church, essentially asking why lightning doesn't strike twice.

The author pointed out that the most important difference between the original successful ministry and every subsequent attempt to recreate it was the mindset of those involved. During the first attempt everything is organic, no one knows what will or won't work, they don't have any expectations, they're just throwing ideas at the wall and seeing what sticks. They're trying to do their best.

However, when they try to recreate this success, they try and stick to the original template which not only brings burdensome expectations, but also stifles creativity and flexibility. They are trying to be successful.

Success leads to failure when they become focused on recreating the success.

They need to stop trying so hard.

---

There's this condition in sports called "the yips". It's not a medical condition necessarily, it's more of a mental roadblock that prevents an athlete from performing simple actions that are ingrained within their muscle memory.

In one of the most famous examples, St. Louis Cardinals pitching phenom Rick Ankiel not only lost the ability to throw strikes, but lost the ability to throw the ball to the catcher at all. He spent years in the minors trying to overcome this hurdle, but it ultimately ended his pitching career (though he did make a rather remarkable comeback as an outfielder for a few years).

The yips usually come about when an athlete starts to think about all the things they need to do to be successful. Instead of just throwing the ball, they think about where their arm needs to be and how they need to turn it and when they need to snap their wrist and when they need to release the ball and how they should follow through.

They start to question and try to control what were formerly instinctual actions. It's the equivalent of trying to remember to breathe. This lack of control creates fear which demands more control and the cycle spirals into chaos.

The only cure is for the athlete to relax and let their mind wander, if they can.

They need to stop trying so hard.

---

Christians like to talk about the terrible state of Christianity. The church is pretty confident that the church is in dire straits and needs to do something quick.

There are thousands of books and articles all about this broken system in need of renovation. Books about how to grow your church, how to increase your giving, how to improve your theology, how to improve your mission, how to start a church, how to lead a church. Books on how to have church with a fox or in a box, in a house or with a mouse. Books on churches here and there, books on churches everywhere.

And I'm starting to wonder....

Maybe, just maybe, the church is trying too hard.

Maybe it's thinking too hard. Maybe it's a slave to it's success. Maybe, just maybe, the church has the yips.

I appreciate the intention of all the books and articles. Of course the people who write them and read them are well-meaning people. Hell, I'm one of those people.

But in this ravenous quest for intentional living, perhaps there is too much intention and not enough actual living...and breathing...and being.

Maybe the Church, maybe we, need to just be for awhile.

Maybe we need to stop trying so hard.

Peace,
Ben

Ben Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87. 

 

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.

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On Missing the Point: Gatsby, Zero Dark Thirty and Obsession

by Ben Howard

Last week I read an article titled, "Did Anyone Actually Read 'The Great Gatsby'?" which discussed the way that Fitzgerald's classic work has been misunderstood throughout the years. It discussed the trend of "Gatsby" parties at Ivy League schools that mistook the lavish excess described in the novel as an endorsement and not a condemnation. It mentions high school writing prompts about ambition that begin "My green light is..." without understanding that the green light at the end of Daisy's dock is the ghost of the past which beckons Gatsby to his own doom.

This misunderstanding was my fundamental fear when I first heard about a Gatsby movie more than a year ago and it's a fear that still has not abated. Is it possible for a blockbuster movie to see beyond the glitz and the glamour of wealth, extravagance, and seedy love triangles to see this story for what it really is? A scathing critique of reckless wealth and a warning to those who lose themselves obsessing over a dream.

It's easy to miss the message embedded in Gatsby because it hits so close to many of the things that motivate the upwardly mobile American ideal. It humbles the pretensions of wealth and excess and an obsessive drive for more. Fitzgerald is the anti-Rand.

As I re-read the book recently, with many of these thoughts bouncing through my mind, I realized that this mistaken response was familiar. It's the same response that many had to Zero Dark Thirty.

There have been varying interpretations of Kathryn Bigelow's Oscar-nominated film. Many have viewed it as a story celebrating the hard work and determination that went into finding and killing Osama Bin Laden. Others have viewed it as a critique on the slowness or ineptitude of government in the war on terror. Many have viewed it as an endorsement of torture, since the film implies "No torture, no Bin Laden."

I don't think the movie is about any of those things. In fact, I don't think it's about Bin Laden at all. It's about the main character, Maya. More specifically, it's about the way that Maya's obsession with catching Bin Laden consumes her and shapes her and leaves her feeling empty when she finally accomplishes her task.

The most important scene in the movie is not the assassination of Bin Laden, it's the scene in the airplane at the end of the film. Maya sits alone and is told that she can go anywhere, but there is nowhere for her to go. She has no friends, no family, no life. She had her search, her manhunt, her obsession and her revenge, but it has ultimately left her empty. So she sits alone in the cavernous emptiness of the plane and cries.

Like Gatsby, Zero Dark Thirty is a story about the way obsession and determination and single-minded pursuit blinds us to the wider world and ultimately leads to our disillusioned and empty destruction.

These are not stories with heroes, they are stories of broken people who can't see the forest for the trees, people who can't pull back and see where they are, who they are, and what their ambition is doing to them. 

We miss some of the most important critiques because they are too close to us, they hit on things that are too vital about the way we see ourselves. We misinterpret Gatsby because we can't stand to think that the dreams we have of wealth and love can possibly be dangerous. We misinterpret Zero Dark Thirty because we, as a society, can't admit to the truth of what our obsession with revenge has done to us.

These lessons, the ones that are most difficult to hear, the ones that rock us to our core, are the most important. How can we train ourselves to be more open and receptive to criticism that cuts at our foundations? How can we learn to listen and respond accordingly?

What critiques do Christians need to hear? What criticisms are we already hearing that are too close for comfort? How do we learn to hear truth and avoid misinterpretation?

Peace,
Ben

Ben Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87. 

You can follow On Pop Theology on Twitter @OnPopTheology or like us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/OnPopTheology.

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Finding God in Stephen King

by JaneAnn Kenney

I struggle with the idea of popular culture and theology. Why should I be looking for theological themes and intersections in the world of reality tv, sports, or cinema? As I struggle to write about pop culture and God, I ask myself—“am I just trying to make a study I find fascinating relevant?”

Is God relevant?

And I firmly believe that he is. The intersection of literature and theology was the first reason I fell in love with Stephen King’s writing. The divergence of the two is the biggest reason I feel slightly vile when I read almost anything by Clive Barker.

And now I’m in the groove. My favorite King book, which can easily be used to illustrate his usual themes and style, must be It. Are there child heroes? Yup. Does their very childishness allow them to believe what adults do not or cannot? Indeed. Does this belief allow them to save themselves and the people they love? With a few sacrifices and notable exceptions, yes. Is there any indication that a supernatural power aided them? Absolutely. What’s more—that supernatural power loves them, loves the children so much. This is not an impersonal deity but rather one which exhibits the Yahweh trait of love for humanity.

Please do not hear me saying that King put Yahweh into It. I’ve often tried to picture God, but never have I pictured him as a huge turtle. However, the turtle’s characterization definitely leans towards a Judeo-Christian portrait.

Now take the first story I ever read by Clive Barker, called “In the Hills, the Cities” in Volume 1 of his Books of Blood. Is there empty, meaningless sex to begin? Yes. Is there senseless, graphic bloodshed? A resounding yes, clarified as near literal rivers of blood. Does the experience end in insanity with no hope of restoration? Of course. There is no room in Barker’s mythology for a loving god, or perhaps any god at all. His world is full of chaos; order collapses frequently and what ensues is his story.

Do not hear me saying that the difference between these authors is faith—I don’t think it is. Rather, having read more SK than many would consider healthy and more Barker than I consider healthy, I think the key difference rests in whether or not the author allows a positive spirituality into their writing.

It surprised me when Bill Denbrough made this statement:

…Best to believe there will be happily ever afters all the way around—and so there may be; who is to say there will not be such endings? Not all boats which sail away into darkness never find the sun again, or the hand of another child; if life teaches anything at all, it teaches that there are so many happy endings that the man who believes there is no God needs his rationality called into serious question.

I praised God when I finished reading this book. It’s not that everyone acted in ways which are distinctly or even remotely Christian. It’s simply that I was surprised to find a horror novel which reminded me that the God I believe in is good and that I will continue to see his influence in surprising places.

You can follow Jane Ann on Twitter @JAKof3Ts.

Game of Thrones

by Jonathan Harrison

Jonathan here. After my last post, I decided to take a meditation retreat in the Rocky Mountains where I learned, from my mentor, that although I cannot control the inanity of reality shows on TLC, I can control my reaction to them. Since my enjoyment of life directly correlates to the way I react to things, if I want to find peace, I must first seek peace with Honey Boo Boo, TLC, and minute long trailers that glorify ATV accidents, and know that only love can answer all my problems.

Or something like that.

Anyways, all that meditation gave me plenty of free time for my recent guilty pleasure: George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire which you know as Game of Thrones.

Since you don't have much time, and the series takes up a couple thousand pages, I'm going to condense the first book and a half into a few sentence fragments: A midget. A wall. War. The Others. Knights. Kings. And lots and lots of hookers.

Yes. Lots and lots of sex. Granted, the first book never gets too gratuitous, so I don't feel guilty when "the Martin" writes something to the effect of, "And then yonder boy went off to visit wenches," (NOT AN ACTUAL SENTENCE IN BOOK) because I don't view the mention of sex as sinful.

But the HBO drama. Good Lord. Wow. 

The series sort of lulls you into complacency and then *BAM* girls start taking off their clothes and before you know it you're checking to see if you need to close the blinds behind your computer lest you get cited for breaking some sort of indecency ordinance.

In fact just this past Sunday I was having a conversation with a friend from church that went something like this:

"I'm currently reading Game of Thrones"
"Really"
"Yea"
"Do you like the T.V. show?"
"Yea. I think it does a good job of eliminating minor characters and humanizing the more evil charictures in the book"
"Yea. I just wish it wasn't basically a porno"
"..."

So is Game of Thrones sinful?

I'm going to go out on a limb here, and maybe tick off some people in the process, and say yes.  Yes it is

In my life, I've often struggled with the cognitive dissonance of good art versus my morality. In our daily lives, we'd like to believe that if something has artistic merit, then the artistry offsets any sinful complications. I struggle with this notion. I struggle with it a lot.

The major problem, to me, is that as American Christians we've all but ignored this difficult question. We like our ability to enjoy good art, and because we do, very few people (usually only fundamentalists) ask if watching X show is worth the risk.

Consequently, we'll also come up with reasons why watching X show or reading X book is worth it. Isn't this funny? As Christians, shouldn't we willingly ditch anything that has even a modicum of sinfulness, no matter how great its artistic merit?

I realize I'm raising all sorts of difficult questions on the nature of sin and what dictates whether something is sinful or not. Different people struggle with different things, but I personally don't need to see 15 pairs of breasts on a daily basis. I just don't. I'm as hetero as hetero can be and I plan on being married some day, but as a Non-Medical Professional Christian American Male (NMPCAM) that number shouldn't be that high.

Wait, Ben, how many people read this blog on a daily basis?

Anyways. Most of you probably pick up what I'm putting down. I'm also extremely hypocritical on this one, but I wanted to ask the question since it's a question that almost no one asks. Is good art worth the risk if it might cause us to stumble? Am I totally off base? Am I letting my right-wing, fanatic evangelical upbringing taint my viewpoint of reality and Jesus? Or am I trying to gain the whole world at the risk of losing my soul? Um. Leave your opinions in the comment section?

Jonathan Harrison has a bee in his kitchen and he can't get the darn thing out of the house.  If you know anyone that wants a bee, please let him know by commenting on his blog that he hasn't updated since late July over at Dried Humor.  Also read Libranding if you want to.

Update: Bee has been moved out of the house and is rather ticked but will eventually figure out how to get out of the gladware container with the stick under it.

Update to the update: Bee figured it out.

What Would Dumbledore Do?

by Mark Smith

Ever since I stole a battered copy of The Hobbit out of my older brother’s bedroom, I’ve been enamored with fantasy literature. There is a stigma attached to the genre, and while much of it is probably deserved, it has not stopped me from lapping up page after page of swords, dragons, wizards, thieves, and knights.

When it comes to fantasy literature, one of the most common staples is the clear definition of good and evil. The hero is righteous, possibly flawed, but equipped with a sackload of virtues that set him up against a clearly defined villain.

The Harry Potter books follow this exactly. Very early, the reader is told explicitly which wizards are good and which wizards are bad. However, one of the things I love about the Harry Potter series in this regard is that over time this simplicity fades.

While the staple of Harry Good/Voldemort Bad remains intact throughout, there is a smaller ,but much more tangible, battle of good and evil at play within the walls of Hogwarts school. Even if you have not read the books, you are probably aware that the students are sorted into one of four houses by way of a magic hat that magically knows which characteristic best defines the student using...magic psychology or something.

Anyway, the brave go to Gryffindor, the wise go to Ravenclaw, the loyal and hard-working go to Hufflepuff, and the ambitious and cunning go to Slytherin. More importantly, the reader is told, even before all the houses are introduced, that ALL bad wizards come from Slytherin.

Even as a child this bothered me. Why would they teach these students magic? Sitting on one side of the great hall is a table full of future Hitlers and we’re going to train them to blow things up for 7 years? Why not have a magic hat that sorts out the brave, wise, and loyal and tells the devil children to see themselves to the door?

In reality (okay, not reality, but you know what I mean), the idea that all bad wizards are Slytherins is just an over simplification told to a child in a story aimed at children. Over the course of the books as Harry grows older, we learn that the world isn’t quite so black and white. Harry learns that Sirius Black, a wizard wanted for the murder of 13 people, was a Gryffindor. Sure, it turns out that he is actually innocent, but the fact that a hat told everyone he is brave did nothing to stop them from locking him up without trial. Spoiler alert there, sorry.

Later, Harry’s dad, a Gryffindor lauded as a paragon of virtue for the first four books, is revealed to have been a snob and a particularly cruel bully in his younger years. Godric Gryffindor, for whom the house is named, is revealed to have been an oppressor of non-human magical creatures. Some Slytherins are revealed to be good people, like Slughorn and Snape. Oh, spoiler alert on that one, too. I should be more careful.

In church, I fear we often oversimplify the good and evil. Those of us who grew up in church were probably told bedtime stories about God and the Devil, and it all seemed so straightforward in Sunday School. If you do what is right, you are on God’s side. If you do what is wrong, you were on the Satan’s side. However, like Harry, we learn as we get older that things are not always that simple. You can’t tell if a person is good or evil by what colors the stripes on their tie are.

In moments of moral confusion, Harry follows the example of Dumbledore. Dumbledore taught him, in words and actions, that when right and wrong are complicated, love is simple.

As Christians, we follow the example of Jesus. Jesus came to this world at a time when right and wrong were unclear. God’s word had been misinterpreted, and the Pharisees had lost the message behind it. Jesus delivered that message, and the message from Rabbi to Pharisee was similar to the one from Harry’s wise headmaster. When the law is complicated, the most important thing is to love God. The second most important thing is to love each other.

I don’t need to tell anyone what the topics of moral ambiguity are in the world today, and I’m certainly not going to tell you what you should believe about any particular one. I will say that the more I try to see both sides of any issue and the more I see the motivations of the people behind them, I, like Harry, start to lose my sense of what right and wrong really mean. 
 
Those who followed Dumbledore often disagreed about what his intentions would have been, just like those who follow Christ disagree. The best advice I can offer is this: When life is at its peak of frustrating moral ambiguity, the best thing to do is follow Harry’s lead and make the decision that shows love.

Christian Books...and Zombies

Note: Special thanks to James K.A. Smith and his twitter feed (@james_ka_smith) for inspiration and some awesome zombie book names.

by Ben Howard

In an attempt to increase Christian book sales, the following titles will be re-released this fall with one small addition.  Zombies.  Hordes of 'em.

Chicken Soup for the Zombie Soul – A delightful book of quips and stories to warm your undead heart. Includes all your zombie favorites from Simon Pegg (Shaun of the Dead) to Robert Kirkman (The Walking Dead) to the guy who directed Thriller. Foreward by George Romero.

Purpose Driven Zombies – What on earth am I here for other than to eat brains, delicious brains. (@bobby_griffith)

Irresistible Zombie Revolution – Learning to live the simple life is a lot simpler when you have a single-minded thought process.

The Five Zombies You'll Meet in Heaven – Jesus is probably one of them, right? (co-blogger Jonathan Harrison)

Zombie Love Wins – It doesn't matter if there's a hell if we can love each other as the undead. (@likemindead)

Left Behind...With Zombies – I haven't read this series. It's totally possible that there are zombies in these books. I doubt Tim LaHaye reads this blog. (@MattCapps)

Blue Like Zombies – A man comes to terms with his faith, his faults, all amidst the backdrop of the zombie apocalypse. Since, it's based in the Pacific Northwest, I feel like this is vampire territory. The Cullen family needs to show these zombies what's up. (@tall_mp)

Mere Zombies – The most influential book for the thoughtful modern zombie. Also, pick up Zombie Letters, a fictional account of the letters between a zombie and his apprentice. (@MichaelRWear)

Sinners in the Hand of an Angry Zombie – This sermons sounds so much cooler with an Angry Zombie instead of an Angry God. Jonathan Edwards would have written some great horror movies. (@zhoag)

Zombie Discipleship – To be a good zombie comes at a price, a painful price, one's very life...because of the whole undead thing. (my friend Hannah Sigmon)

How (Not) to Speak of Zombies – When we reject the zombies, the zombies surround us and become us, but when we learn to accept the zombies as the other, then they no longer know where to find us.

Gospel of the Living Dead – This is an actual book. Looks cool. http://www.amazon.com/dp/1932792651/ref=cm_sw_su_dp

Peace,

Ben

When he isn't writing about fictional zombie-based books, Ben spends his time training to become an Olympic medalist in competitive floating. Crossing his fingers for Baku in 2020. You can follow his training regimen on Twitter @BenHoward87.

Our Mission, Should We Choose to Accept It

by Ben Howard

It can be argued fairly easily that we are a product of our society.  Whether this “society” in question is the whole of Western Civilization, America in particular, or even our cities, our states, our neighborhoods, our churches, or just our families we are all fundamentally communal and cultural creatures and these piecemeal social forces from the macro to the micro nuance and flavor our view of the world.  As a natural response to the effect these forces have upon us a discerning eye has been turned towards the weightier matters of our culture.  We discuss war and peace, security and freedom, issues of morality and power and fear, but we discuss them either in the abstract (which makes them seem esoteric) or through anecdotal evidence (which makes them too personal). 

However, we rarely discuss entertainment, or at least what our entertainment says about who we are.  Sure, sometimes we talk about high artistic achievement, but I’m sorry to say that Picasso does not say as much about society as Jersey Shore does, or at least why we like to watch Jersey Shore.  I think that through the lens of our entertainment we have the perfect vehicle to explore how we think, what we think about and how we are truly motivated.  With this knowledge I think we can begin to dig into ourselves and find a way of living and responding to our societies that is more authentic and intentional than we had before.

So that’s the intent here, to explore and analyze our entertainment from movies to TV to sports to books to whatever cultural wave happens to crash across our bow.  The point is not to say what’s good or worthy, though I’m sure I will do both on occasion, but to see what these oft untapped sources have to say to us about who we are, who we think we are, and who we aspire to be.

Peace,

Ben