Executing Ideas

Since February 4, 2004, the number of Facebook users has risen from zero to about 800,000,000, or 11% of the world’s population.

That’s a lot of Farmville.

As most of us in the U.S., particularly on campus, are on Facebook, I’ve been thinking about how I should use it. It can’t be good to embrace something wholeheartedly without a little critique and consideration of if it’s good for me and others. And as a Christian, I need to ask how my thoughts on faith sound to others, even in the cybersphere. Here’s where I’m at:

1. Be there.

In order to love people, help people, and serve people, you need to be where they are, even if that’s a digital platform. I’m sure God calls some of us to eschew Facebook (and other social streams) for good reasons, but for most of us, I think it’s a part of a robust cultural engagement that Christians often have missed. Some of my friends who aren’t Christians really appreciate getting to interact with me (and vice versa) and that wouldn’t be happening without Facebook. I’m accessible, and so are they.

2. Know healthy boundaries of sharing.

Some people are inclined to only share that which makes them look really good, a carefully tended image. Others don’t know when to shut up. Crashing and burning in front of everyone (and with Facebook’s new defaults and public options, I mean everyone) isn’t healthy or helpful. Some things do not need to be “Facebook official.”

3. Watch out for selfishness and narcissm.

You are not the center of the universe, even the virtual universe. Put others’ needs before your own even online. I try to share useful things with others, and I have a firm commitment to post about what I am eating no more than twice a year. (Nobody cares, folks.) I’ve also learned that my humor sometimes gets lost in the ether. I have to remember to be courteous in my comments and interactions online.

4. Aim to become the person you wish you were.

I’m tempted to post only the very best about me, a persona that doesn’t always match reality. But that persona might actually be worth being. Staying plugged into the public can call you to see the kind of life you want to be living (and posting about), like helping somebody with a flat tire or reading a thought-provoking book. I think God uses Facebook to help me see more clearly the man I am called to be.

5. Monitor your time.

If I’m not thinking about it, I would check Facebook moments after I climb out of bed, as I wait for my tea kettle to boil. I would check it again before I leave home. It would be my first order of business at work. I would check it a number of times in the morning, right before lunch, after lunch, and before I leave. I would check it on my phone at a stop light on the way home, and I would wish my phone was waterproof so I could check it in the shower. It’s addictive. I need to make sure I’m really with the people I’m with, that I’m present. I aim to let Facebook complement and feed into face-to-face interactions.

6. Consider your audience.

I talk differently to friends who I know want to follow Jesus and those who do not. There are different expectations, different themes, even different expressions that work with each group of friends. Some Christians I know don’t seem to consider this, with posts that must be real head-scratchers for people who are unfamiliar with the Bible or the Church. And I know others who probably catch flak from their parents or pastors for being friends with folks who have no interest in the Bible. A couple months ago, Facebook introduced lists that can help on this front, where you can share something like a request for prayer with select people, depending on your relationship and who they are. I’m trying this out and it feels much more natural to me to share most posts publicly and a few specific ones with people I know are with me on the road behind Jesus.

7. Don’t discount weak links.

I don’t really know some of the people I’m Facebook friends with. Some I’ve not talked to since college or even high school. Yet they’ve watched me for a while and concluded that I’m faithful and thoughtful, that I’m a safe person to talk to. Then they message me or grab me at a high school reunion and ask some really deep stuff. In some cases, it seems like I’m one of the few thoughtful, caring people (let alone Christians) in their life. That’s a great opportunity to serve others.

Even though I like to say that “Facebook is my job,” I’m still learning. If you want to read more, check out Friending by Lynne Baab, Flickering Pixels: How Technology Shapes Your Faith by Shane Hipps, or The Next Story: Life and Faith after the Digital Explosion by Tim Challies.

Why and how do you use Facebook (or Twitter or YouTube or Tumblr or the rest)?

This post originally ran on the InterVarsity blog.

We’ve just come through Lent, the 40-day season of fasting many Christians practice. It’s a contemplative season, considering one’s own shortcomings, failings, and selfishness and the need for a messiah. Lent culminates, of course, with “Good” Friday, so we consider the great love that Jesus lived and died for, as well as Resurrection Sunday (or Easter).

We are now a week after Easter and Lent. For those who did fast in some fashion during Lent, is there any lingering insight or change? Has life “gone back to normal”?

I was driving home from work one day this week and thinking. I understand Lent and its meditative, somber weeks. But how am I feeling now, after Lent, after Easter? And are there any spiritual practices in which I can grow in this season?

Yes. I need to grow in the discipline of parties.

There’s a forgotten season of the Christian church calendar, the 50 days after Easter, traditionally referred to as Eastertide. I know nothing of this season, so I’m starting to read up. But my starting point is this—after a time of fasting, there should be a season of feasting. After considering that Jesus was dead and our great need of him, and that then he was alive again, we ought to throw a bunch of parties.

I’m not sure what Eastertide has meant throughout the history of the Church. I don’t know what practices traditional churches may have during these weeks. But here is my proposal—for the next fifty days, until May 27, we party.

Let’s celebrate the freedom, joy, and love that Jesus offers. Let’s remember and rejoice that God is still working on us and inviting us to join in good work in the world. And let’s create spaces and events to be together, to just have fun and enjoy life a bit.

Sure beats the heck out of giving up chocolate or meat or coffee and then just going back to “normal life” after Lent.

Already, we’ve gone to two parties this week. And we’re planning a big one on day 50—you’re all invited to our place on May 27.

What are you going to do during these 50 days of feasting?

I interviewed Don Miller last week. I’ve spent a couple days with co-writer and director Steve Taylor. I watched Blue Like Jazz twice at screenings I helped arrange. I’ve written elsewhere about the film. But I’ve been stewing on a question…

When I was talking to Don about the film, he referred to “people who live between faith and doubt, between the Church and the world.” Then somebody I work with sent me a question about the film. Christianity Today published a mixed review. I think the main critique was that the film never quite got to the point of a “Christian movie.” It didn’t provide a bulleted outline of what you should believe, that there was too much on people’s experience and not enough on doctrines. There will be no invitation to accept Jesus into your heart in the theater. “What do you think of that?” my coworker asked.

My response?

This is a piece of art. And art does not do a good job of prescribing. When Christians (or anybody) try to make art prescriptive, it trips into sentimentality and cliché. And that is not good art.

What art does do, however, is open up spaces for conversation. Art provokes something in us. Art challenges us. Art invites thought and a response. This is true of the audience of this film. And in talking to Don, this was also true of the team that made this film, that there was a mix of people and perspectives on the project, with lots of conversation and relationships flowing out of the script and the production.

Blue Like Jazz doesn’t offer clear, easy answers. But I think it resonates with the experience of a lot of people have had with the Church in the past twenty years, both as insiders and outsiders. It shows us the tension, the angst, the hypocrisy, the back-and-forth of faith and lack of faith.

So, you shouldn’t see Blue Like Jazz if:

• You want easy answers.
• You can’t consider the possibility of shortcomings in yourself, whether Christian or not.
• You have a hard time laughing.
• You want Christianity to be locked away in its own subculture.

Why are you planning on seeing Blue Like Jazz? (Or not?)

Don Miller’s Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality has been made into a film and is opening in select cities this Friday, April 13, and more on Friday, April 20 (see cities and buy tickets here). The book of loosely connected stories has sold nearly two million copies, obviously touching a nerve.

I talked to Don about the process of making a movie, controversy around the film, and what’s next.

You are nearing your opening. How do you think the project is going?

It’s good. We feel like the movie is getting good feedback. Thousands of people have seen it now. We don’t have a big marketing budget, so we hope these people can share about it through social media. There’s no way to tell how it will do at the box office.

As you’re coming down to the wire, what are your hopes for the movie?

We just hope this movie becomes, you know, a beloved piece of art…entertainment for a lot of people or a whole group of people who live in this middle ground between the church and the world, between faith and doubt, that they find a home in this film.

In a recent blog post, you wrote about “changing culture.” If this film is a fulcrum point for a change in our culture, what would you hope that would be?

The sort of average evangelical has a very dualistic life. They say a lot of right answers but not a lot of true answers. I hope this film paints the middle ground a little bit. There’s this wrestling between faith and doubt. That’s where most of my friends are. They are not people of faith, so I live in that, in a couple different cultures. This film lives in a couple different cultures too. I don’t know if such a film has really been made yet.

I saw the co-writer on the screenplay, Steve Taylor, post about a possible Christian establishment conspiracy against Blue Like Jazz. Do you think there is one?

I don’t think there’s a Christian conspiracy (against the film). I just think there are people who see Christian faith one way and see anyone who doesn’t see it their way as antagonistic or threatening.

What’s been the best part of making the film?

It’s been a very long process. We’re pretty weary. But you know, it’s the relationships.

We made this movie together, become like brothers, from the guys managing the tour to Steve (Taylor, co-writer and director) to Ben (Pearson) the director of photography to even the actors—Marshall (Allman, lead actor) has hung with us on the road. We had over some of the guys who were in the film last night who were not believers. We just all fell in love with each other.

It’s rare community, an anomaly, to make a piece of art together about their respective faith or lack of faith. I don’t know if that’s ever been done. I’ve never seen it. I’ve seen people from different stages come together, and work on projects. But we’ve really clicked.

For these artists who are not people of faith, did they sense an ownership of the film that “This says something about my experience too”?

Two of our actors, Tania Raymonde who we picked up from Lost and Justin Welborn, neither of them people of faith. They both felt like this was a beautiful statement about who they are. We came together and made a movie. And of course the protagonist is a Christian. It doesn’t have a “we’re right, they’re wrong” bent. It’s a guy overcoming his shame of who he is, of being able to be known. I think they really loved that and resonate with that.

The only character in the film who is afraid to be himself is Don. Everybody else is pretty much out with who they are. People from communities who are sort of ostracized in culture and society might really identify with this film because it’s really about a guy who is just trying to figure out who he is but he’s also repressing a lot of who he is because he’s ashamed of it. I think it’s a common story.

You mention being weary. Do you have a sense that this six-year process has been worth it?

I think it might be like having children in how hard it is. But when you have a kid who’s two or three, you forget about how hard it was raising a kid. And I wouldn’t be surprised if we got caught up with that in the filmmaking process. We’re already daydreaming about our next screenplay, and we hope we’ll be blessed enough to make it…The statistics are not with us. To make another one is to just sort of to go back out there and start shooting from behind the arc, trying to make threes. It’s always a good challenge. I think our chances of getting the next film made are better if we have a success (with this one).

You were quoted in a Washington Post article as saying, “The average Christian wants clean answers, clean characters — ‘I was bad then Jesus happened to me, now I became good.’ Not, ‘I grew up in church and I saw a lot of hypocrisy and I walked away and I realized God exists outside of church.” Is there still value in church?

Well sure, yeah. But isn’t (what I said) an obvious statement? Would anyone who goes to church think that God doesn’t exist outside the church? Wouldn’t you say that they are crazy? Isn’t that an extremely arrogant assumption to say that the only place you’re going to find God is at church? That would be really offensive to me if somebody said that.

But I do think that there’s this element in church culture that we want to own God and control him, and they want to charge for him, that you can only get him at this store. I just absolutely don’t believe that’s true at all.

I have a friend who was excited when he heard I was going to interview you. He wrote:

“I am not sure what my relationship with God is, or will become. I want that to happen, but I am bogged down by religion. I think Miller’s writing helps dissect some of that disconnect, but I would like to know if he has any thoughts about where that journey of discovery can start. I find it intimidating. How can this journey be done in a way that is not overly convoluted by “being told the right way” and discovering for oneself?

I would just say, the thing is—it’s still hard, man—but just to go directly to the source. Just go to God and talk to God and pray to God and trust that he can guide you. To me that’s the first step and that begins with prayer. And God somehow takes care of us.

This post originally ran on the blog of InterVarsity.

I understand Jesus was killed on a Friday, that his corpse was stuck in a cave with a rock over the opening, with guards outside, that he was dead.

But I also actually believe that on the next Sunday, some people went to the tomb and Jesus’ body was gone, that then Jesus showed up and talked to them and a lot of other people over the next few weeks, alive.

People who know me would say I am not generally spouting off conspiracy theories, half-truths, Pollyannaish pie-in-the-sky. I am not out of touch with reality. I am not part of the masses looking for an opiate. I do not need a cosmic security blanket or eternal fire insurance.

So why do I believe all this?

In the days and weeks and years after Jesus’ death, his followers went from being a small, despondent, ragtag group to a real movement, despite persecution and threat of death. Seeing Jesus alive again explains their fervor, their courage, and their growth. But this isn’t the primary reason I believe Jesus was alive again.

And around the world, people long to see heroes who lay out for others, people giving everything for love, and the weak overcoming. It’s as if we have been hard-wired with this giving of oneself for the good of others as the dominant storyline. But there’s still a more profound reason that I believe Jesus died and then was alive again.

Everybody has to answer some questions—what is the nature of reality? What is the fundamental problem that humanity faces? What is the solution to that problem? I am looking for an explanation for my experience.

While it’s really hard to understand or believe how Jesus was totally flat-line dead and then alive again, the why under all this makes sense to me: God is perfect. I am not. Our missteps and selfishness (both individually and collectively) cannot be overlooked—these need to be purified or fixed. Otherwise there is no real morality or justice. Death is my payment, what I owe. But God loved people and wanted to offer a solution to our imperfection, our screw-ups. Jesus’ sacrifice was that answer. He received the punishment that I deserve. He overcame death itself and invites me to join him. I just have to accept the gift.

And this makes sense of what I see and live in the world. I am often selfish. I don’t do good things that I should do, and I sometimes do or say things that I shouldn’t. I need someone to cover for me. I need to be re-made into the person I want to be, the person I should be. And without the kind of power that can make a corpse breathe again, I don’t stand a chance.

Why do you believe (or not) that Jesus was dead and then alive again?

This post originally ran on the blog of InterVarsity.

Hope can be empty and fruitless. Do you have reason to have hope for the Church?

We bicker and fight and split. We divorce and cheat like everyone else. We are often hateful. We fail to live out the high ideals we claim as our own.

I do hope that the Church focuses on core essentials like the reign of God, the person and teaching of Jesus, the resurrection, the activity of the Spirit now, the authority of the Bible, the value of people, and the importance of justice.

I don’t think we need to be asking “What is your hope for the Church?” Rather, is there good reason to have hope for the Church?

I say yes:

1. Cultural Christianity is melting. In the U.S., it is no longer expected that you know the Bible or go to church or give a rip about religion. This opens space for authentic Christians to live in a fashion that befits those who follow Jesus. It’s like a do-over, allowing us to consider our forms of worship, service, and living as disciples. It’s an exciting time.

2. The Bible is back. Ok, so it never really left. But in this season of re-assessing how we’re living out our faith, we are looking for a standard by which to make decisions. A renewed commitment to the Bible and theological grounding is undergirding growing churches in the U.S.

3. Justice is no longer only for communists. From my years as a college student in the late ‘90s to the past few years, there has been a significant shift. Back then, when I asked about Jesus saying, “Blessed are the poor” and “You cannot serve both God and money,” people looked at me like I had festering wounds on my face. Now, there is significant commitment amongst many evangelicals (as well as mainline Protestants, Pentecostals, and Catholics) to care for the poor like Jesus commanded. As we serve sacrificially, we earn credence with our critics.

Read the other five reasons here.

They’ve got all you need down at the A&W.

(How effective do you think this is, spiritually and economically?)

We are about to go to our friends’ house to watch the Super Bowl. There are a few things I want to tell you.

Although this seems like a really big deal, it isn’t. It’s just that the people in our country don’t have anything to get excited about all together anymore. We used to get excited together about fighting against the British and stuff, but we haven’t all gotten excited about the same stuff in a long time. So we get all worked up about this game instead.

You are not less of a person because you can never play in the Super Bowl. Men are the only people who play. Sometimes the reporter on the sideline is a woman. And I’m sure someday soon a woman will be anouncing the game or in the studio at halftime and another will be running the sidelines as a referee. But the players are all men, and that will not change. I really hope and pray that you will do something more important with your life than play a football game (or report on one or referee one).

Don’t be like the women you see. You will see women dancing on the sidelines of this football game, my love. They will not be wearing many clothes. They will be amazing athletes, maybe even as amazing as the men on the field. But their whole lives go into being beautiful, and that’s kinda sad. You’re way more important than just having smooth skin and showing it off. You’re a lot more valuable than a pretty face. The shape of your breasts and butt and your ability to dance don’t give you your worth as a person. No matter how gorgeous you are when you grow up—and I have no doubt that will be really, really beautiful, since you already are—please know that your mind and your soul matter more.

There are a lot of men you should avoid. There will be some really funny and cool ads on during the Super Bowl. We’ll laugh and look at each other with our mouths wide open. But commercials sometimes kind of lie, saying things that are not true. I’ve heard about the ads that are going to air tonight—GoDaddy, Kia, Doritos, and the rest. They show women mostly naked. They do this because they think men really want to see that and that men are dumb enough to buy something because a mostly-naked woman was in an ad. A good man decides to really love one woman, not just her body and not lots of women. That’s the kind of man that I hope falls deeply in love with you one day. I love your mom and don’t look at other women naked. And trust me, you don’t ever want to be with a man who just wants to see other women naked.

You can always talk to me. This is some big stuff. You can ask me anything, and I will always make time for you. You’re the best.

Love,

Daddy

What else would you say to girls and young women about the messages around the Super Bowl?

Leave a comment below.

My buddy Matt is a fantastic photographer. And he recently shot me.

There’s a good chance you’ve read Blue Like Jazz: Non-religious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality (Thomas Nelson, 2003). Don Miller’s sold over a million of ‘em.

But he and Steve Taylor have adapted it to be a film, and it’s coming out in the spring, on April 13, 2012. Steve (and a swell guy named Dave Palmer who runs Dunk Tank Marketing) came to Madison a couple weeks ago and let some of us at InterVarsity screen the rough cut of the film.

It’s good.

Let’s be honest here, a lot of stuff produced by Christians is either indistinguishable in quality or content from anything else or ham-handed efforts to proselytize make it painful to watch (especially if you’re a thoughtful follower of Jesus).

But Blue Like Jazz comes through:

• It’s funny (a major victory for adherents to a faith that is plagued by its adherents).
• They don’t assume the audience is stupid.
• It doesn’t shy away from issues (or the language) of college students.
• There is a bear suit, a robot protest, tall bikes, and puppets.
• It’s genuine and believable, even with a sort of modern day fairy tale feel.
• The music is great.
• It raises questions without easy answers.

And that’s the real strength of Blue Like Jazz. Yes, it’s a good film on it’s own merit. But in the film, Miller and Taylor have made some space for honest conversations about what my friends believe, the crazy stuff Jesus said, and how the Christians often are way off in left field (and not in a good way).

So reread the book, maybe give it to someone for Christmas, and get ready.

Let me know if you have any questions.