Chip Shots

What is it that separates the ethical advice of the Bible from that of other forms of spirituality, or, for that matter, Dr. Phil’s counsel on television? After all, don’t most religions and self-help books generally say the same thing? At first glance it might appear to be so. However, the difference is not so much in what they say, but in the foundational truths that support their ideas. For example, a book might encourage you to cultivate a positive self esteem, to refuse to be bitter about your past, to believe the best will happen even if things look gloomy. These are all good advice. A religious or spiritual teaching may encourage you to accept others, to be a giver rather than a taker, to honor your marital vows. Again, excellent counsel. But what is the basis, the foundation, the root of all this helpful instruction? Is it valid simply because we think it’s a good idea, or is there a deeper basis? More to the point, how am I to manufacture these good attitudes and habits when e...

As a child, I loved Bible stories. Who wouldn’t be enchanted by the little guy beating the big guy in David vs. Goliath? The scriptures are chock full of stories like that: shipwreck and adventure, adultery and murder, passion and lust, conquest and failure. It’s fascinating reading, really. But you wouldn’t know that by visiting most churches on a Sunday morning. It seems we preachers view these Bible stories only as repositories for “principles” and “promises.” Like scientists working on a cadaver, we dissect the text, extracting tips and techniques for congregational consumption. If we can’t turn a story into three points and a practical conclusion, we haven’t any use for it. In so doing, we often obscure the very truth we seek to proclaim. For God works in a full palette of colors, not simply black and white – no matter what we’d like to believe. Life is a story, not a formula. It is not tidy; it’s complicated. It’s got rough edges. You can’t reduce life to principles and promises...

This was going to be the article where I gave you a progress report on my spiritual exercise for Lent. As you may know, Lent is the fifty-day season leading up to Easter. For the past thousand years, followers of Christ have engaged in voluntary fasting in order to identify with Jesus’ suffering before celebrating His resurrection. Of course, fasting is not much in vogue nowadays, and neither are church traditions – especially in the church of my upbringing, that curious brand of believer now known as Evangelical. I’ve written about that before, and won’t bore you with the biblical rationale for abandoning church tradition in favor of the traditions of popular culture. (Actually, there isn’t any, but that’s another story for another time.) In any case, expressing solidarity with Jesus and mainstream Christian friends, I decided I would do some voluntary fasting of my own during Lent. I wasn’t brave enough to give up my coffee habi...

I have to admit it was a little embarrassing. When you're looking at missionary pictures in church, it’s not too unusual to see some extra skin exposed here and there. But when the guest speaker showed aboriginal men wearing kotekas many of us got a little squeamish. "Kotekas are worn by the men of Dani and Yali tribes as a traditional part of their wardrobe," the speaker intoned. "I believe it is meant to accentuate their masculinity. As to why some are longer than others, I really couldn’t say.” Maybe you've seen a man wearing a koteka. It's a long cylindrical gourd tied with a string around the waist. Generally the only clothing worn by men, it is positioned directly above the male sexual organ which, apparently, is inserted directly into the end of the koteka. The length of the koteka varies widely, but I've seen pictures where they are several feet long extending upward to the shoulder. One of the tribes wear kotekas more or less straight out from th...