Rocky Mountain High

I think John Denver and Rob Bell would have been great friends. I came to this conclusion during my reading this morning. I was out on my balcony in Vail, reading while watching a rushing stream about 50 yards from my unit. The trees were close enough to hug, if I were so inclined. The sound of the stream was muted somewhat by the sounds of the traffic on I-70 less than 100 yards away. So I thought of John Denver--the things he loved so close to the things he hated.

My reading for the day turned out to be one of those "coincidences" in that it was along an environmental theme. Bell was talking about creation, how God would create something, call it "good" and then give it the power to recreate itself. For example, when he saw that fish were good, he didn't create more fish, he gave fish the means to reproduce themselves. Then he created man, and gave man dominion over the earth, which in Bell's interpretation included the charge to take this "good" thing and make it better. Then he penned the line that stopped me and became the subject of this post : "That's why litter and pollution are spiritual issues."

It was awhile before I read on. I looked out at the stream and realized I hadn't seen an empty beer can or a sandwich wrapper floating along. My thoughts went back to age 6, when we were visiting family in Illinois. On the drive, litter was commonly a foot deep along the side of the road. We got to Illinois and I was excited about going swimming in Lake Michigan. Except that we couldn't even get into the water because there were literally millions of dead fish floating at the shoreline and as far out as we could see. One of the things that amazed me on our family trip to Chicago in 1989 was the beach was as pristine as one would hope it to be. This is not about who was responsible for the cleanup, but that it has taken place. And Denver and Bell would say we are coming closer to doing the job that God gave us to do in Eden.

Why is litter a spiritual issue? In its purist interpretation, I suppose you could say that anything that makes the planet less beautiful is subverting the intent that God had in creation. It's a man saying that his comfort is more important than taking care of God's creation, that the job we have been given to make the planet better isn't worth his time. Even more so, it is showing a disregard for others that God has commanded us to love and make better. The fish that eats the metal thrown into the water and dies. The man that is paid to clean up after us. I have heard people callously say that they are helping people employed by making them clean up after them. Then I was reminded of yesterday when we checked out of our villa in Park City and we had about 4 bags of trash and the dumpsters were 4 floors away. I said to Jan, "Housekeeping's going to be here anyway." Shame on me. (One of the things that was amazing about attending a baseball game in Montreal was that the fans threw away their own trash, not leaving it under their seat for the custodians after!) I suppose if we truly took our responsibilities to heart, hotel housekeeping staffs would never have to do anything but laundry. But in casually tossing away our trash, we are in effect being selfish, expecting others to do what we should do for ourselves, and we know how God feels about selfishness.

Pollution to me is all of the above taken from the individual to the corporate level. It's the pursuit of profit above all, regardless of the means necessary to get there. So we had burning eyes from smog in '60s Los Angeles, companies dumping their waste in the middle of large bodies of water, etc. Largely because they have been forced by legislation, companies now are more accountable for correcting those behaviors.

Now, I don't belong to the Sierra Club, I'm not a vegan, and you will never see me chaining myself to an oak tree marked for cutting. But I will also never toss my can out my car window even if I'm in the middle of the desert with no other cars for miles. I honestly believe we are closer than we were 50 years ago, to becoming the kind of people God intended for us to be.

So I don't long for the good old days. To me they mean a highway with litter piled on the sides. The better new days mean I can enjoy a litter-free mountain stream during my morning read. The good old days meant dead fish in the lake. the better new days mean a pollution-free beach. If I may expand, the good old days meant breathing other people's smoke in public places or workplaces. Finally in the good old days, an African American woman couldn't ride in the front of the bus. In the better new days, an African American woman is the First Lady.

And I promise to work on the whole throwing away my own trash at the ballgame thing.

Think I'll go with John Denver for the closing. In this Rocky Mountain setting, I wish to live out my life so that people can say, "he walks in quiet solitude, the forests and the streams, SEEKING GRACE IN EVERY STEP HE TAKES."

Thoughts on a Churchless Sunday Morning

We are on vacation in Park City, thus our normal Sunday church activities are obviously unavailable to us. I brought Rob Bell's "Velvet Elvis" along with me and, as sometimes happens, a phrase leaped off the page at me this morning. I've always known grace is available to all, but I don't think I've ever heard it expressed the way it way this morning. (Disclaimer #1, I may have heard it before and wasn't in a position to process it the way I did this morning. Disclaimer #2 I ran it by Jan and she wasn't impressed, and she's usually a pretty good sounding board for these things. So feel free to stop reading now.)

Anyway, here's the phrase: "Hell is full of forgiven people God loves, whom Jesus died for." I've always known that God loves all, and Jesus died for all, but somehow the concept that people in Hell are forgiven had never occurred to me. I think most evangelicals have been taught God's forgiveness needs to be asked for and accepted. But pre-conversion forgiveness? That's a new one to me, but it makes sense, for a number of reasons.

First of all, I've always been told and taught that forgiveness needs to take place even if the "offender" doesn't ask for it, even if they are unaware they have wronged me. It's for my benefit that I don't hold on to that hurt and let it turn into bitterness. Forgiveness of others is an important command of Christ, and it doesn't come with the condition that it needs to be requested. So, if that is the standard for us, it makes sense that God has the same standard for Himself. The Bible says Jesus died, "Once for all," which means that all forgiveness for all time took place at that moment.

Secondly, if you think of Christ's words on the cross, "Father, forgive them...", he was at the moment referring to his murderers, who obviously didn't believe they were doing anything that needed to be forgiven. But they were forgiven at that moment, whether they wanted to be or not.

Thirdly, that forgiveness obviously applies to me and to you. One of the sticky things about switching churches is that we switched to a church that was pretty much at the other end of the spectrum in many theological positions. I remember the pastor at our orientation saying, "you've been forgiven for every sin you've committed and every sin you WILL commit." I struggled with that, and asked him about it later. He said it wasn't a blank check to continue sinning, but rather that the provision for any future transgressions was already there. (I suspect Rob Bell's quote wouldn't be that much of a shock for him).

In context of the entire chapter, the quote has even more meaning than can be discussed here, but it was an "aha" moment for me. As I said, we've been brought up to believe that part of the salvation process is asking for forgiveness, and then accepting that forgiveness. This can be a stumbling block for the person that says, "God can never forgive all of the things I've done." Before, I would say something inane like, "Sure he can, he wants to." Now I am going to say, "He already has." I think that was the "it is finished" part on the cross. That may not be a big change in your eyes (or my wife's evidently) but it is a paradigm shift for me.

So,even though I am 1000 miles away from Huntington Beach today, FCC had a big part in my going to church today. The teaching from day one has been about the marvelous grace that is available to all, and how easy it is to accept. Rob Bell was unknown to me until we started there, and his books were recommended by my friend Don (don't get all that much out of his videos). I love my church.

Of Yvette, Jan and Rick (not me)

Rob Bell tells a story of a young lady named Yvette who came up to him after church one day and told him she disagreed with everything he said and wanted to stand up in her chair during the messages and yell at him. His response: "I immediately liked her." She went on to say she was studying witchcraft and was totally opposed to his entire message. (I know a lot of churches where she would have immediately been escorted from the property). He said, "But you keep coming back," and told her that he hoped she would continue to do so. A few weeks later was the Sunday after the 9/11 attacks, and he preached on the need to forgive and let go of the hatred when people have wronged us. After, he saw Yvette face down on the floor sobbing. She later told him she had been raped years ago and had been carrying around that bitterness and anger and it controlled her entire life. She turned it over to the One who had suffered far more than her. A few months later she handed him a sheet of paper with her contact info on it. Whene he asked why, she started telling stories of witches she had been meeting who now wanted to become Christians, and if I met any, to send them to her.

That's a great story, and I'm using it to justify my claim on the story I'm about to tell. For Rob Bell said "I claim Yvette's story, for Yvette's story is our story and our story is God's story. Faith is a communal experience."

So I'm going to tell you about Jan and Rick (not me). Jan is adopted. A few years ago, through a series of miraculous "coincidences" the Aunt who arranged her adoption found her. We have since met with Aunt Glennis and Aunt Alice and have had conversations with one of Jan's nephews. Jan's mother had three other children, all boys, and two of them have passed away. The third, Rick, is about 18 months younger than Jan, and has basically been out of touch with the family since about 1984. He didn't know he had a sister, and the aunts gave us little hope of finding him. That's where my son Tim came into the picture. Tim has recently gotten really involved in ancestry exploration, and has traced all of our families back hundreds of years.

Now, Tim has had not much use for the institutional church for quite some time, causing his dad quite a bit of soul-searching, but as I get older I realize that Tim's heart is more Christ-like than most of the Christians I know. And this was never more true than in his search for the lost sheep that was his Uncle Rick. In hindsight, I think that was his ulterior purpose in digging into his ancestry. The search has gone on for about 3 years. Finally a couple of weeks ago, he told us he had found a couple of possible addresses for Rick (Trowbridge last name), and was going to write him a letter with our contact information.

Three days ago, Jan was at the dentist and I was home alone when the phone rang. The caller asked for Tim, and when I said Tim didn't live her, he finally got around to saying, "This is Rick Trowbridge." We talked for awhile and he promised to call back later in the evening. I immediately called Tim with the news, and to say he was excited would be a gross understatement. His next facebook post referred to shaking hands and pacing the floor. When queried, his response was simple: "I found my Mom's brother." There were some personal reasons for his quest, but I believe his main reason was that he knew how happy it would make his mother.

When Jan got home, I said it was too bad she hadn't been home, because then she could have taken the call from her brother. She immediately dropped all the mail on the floor, doubled over and began sobbing. She could have been the poster child for tearss of joy.

Rick called back and he and Jan talked for almost an hour. He had gotten Tim's letter the night before, had no idea he even had a sister, was somewhat miffed at Aunt Glennis for never telling him, but mainly it was evident that he was as joyful at having a sister as Jan was at finally talking to her brother.

We went to the movies yesterday, and a voice mail from Rick was waiting for us, the underlying message being, "I want to talk to you again." So Jan called and they spent another 45 minutes or so getting to know each other. His life has been as tragic as Jan's has been blessed, but my wife plans to do whatever she can to make sure the rest of their lives are spent as a family.

That is a great story. And, as Rob Bell did with Yvette, I'm making it my story. It's really Jan's story, Tim's story and Rick Trowbridge's story, but I can't imagine any of them being any more joyful than I am. The brother that was lost has been found. And we're having a banquet in our hearts.