I just finished reading Donald Miller's "Blue Like Jazz." I'd heard good things from others about it, but I'm always skeptical when I hear the kind of hyperbolic praise of the power of a piece of literature that accompanied much of those reviews. Don't get me wrong, it's a fantastic book, but in the end it's still just a story of one man's faith journey, it's not the end-all, be-all of modern Christian spirituality (as I'm sure Miller would agree). That's the biggest question the book raised for me--Miller, at times, seems to teeter dangerously on the edge of offering answers to questions that are not answerable, at least in this lifetime. I think he does a good job of walking that line, and centering most of his discussion around Christian spirituality in relation to how we live our lives as human beings trying to relate to an unknowable God. Therein lies the rub, ultimately, in writing about the Christian journey--it's tough not to get stuck in the vagaries of estimating God. That's the lesson I took away most strongly from "Blue Like Jazz"--there's a pretty reliable record of what we, as human beings, have been given in our search for God, that being the Bible, especially those parts relating to Christ (given that that's the time when we, as Christians, believe that God had His--Her?--closest interaction with the human race). Really, that seems to be what Miller is driving at--modeling one's life after Jesus' teachings. Although we each discover other facets of God throughout our lives, and we learn and grow when in Christian community with others and sharing what we've learned, that's what makes our beliefs such a personal thing--God is so immense, so incomprehensibly perfect in power and in scope, that it often seems that God reveals a different part of God's self to each of us.

Back to the book. The greatest issue it raised directly, for me, was the fact that Jesus was a radical, a revolutionary, and so must we be if we are to truly follow Him. It bothers me that the church, as a whole, is thought of as almost the polar opposite of this--conservative is often a word that comes to mind when Christianity mentioned. Yes, it's good that the church aims to be a bastion of moral values, but this seems to primarily manifest itself in negative instruction--don't do this, that is wrong--and not in positive action. This mindset lends itself more to judgment of others than to betterment of oneself. This is the area I'd most like to see the church separate itself from politics--Miller says something to the effect that legislation will not bring about God's kingdom on earth. I'd love to see more of that energy that is currently used in political jockeying used in direct action. It seems to get to the point, at times, where the church is the politician's tool, rather than vice versa. Now, I'd also like to make the caveat here that much of this deals with the church's perception, regardless of the church in actuality. There are plenty of congregations who are doing just what I've talked about, who are making a real difference and (rightly) just not asking for (or receiving, sadly) the attention and recognition these other factions are getting.

It often seems that Christians themselves are the biggest obstacle to a true Christian church, which is not a revolutionary thought, I know, but is frustrating nonetheless. I don't know if it's a generational thing or what, but I've recently become less and less comfortable with my home church. Actually, less than a generational problem, I think it's more of a demographic problem--I'm just not comfortable with a small-town congregation. It's, well, small, and the focus seems rather narrow and incapable of shifting outward. I don't mean to be critical of my dad's church (literally, my dad, not talking about the Heavenly Father here), because I think he's doing a fantastic job with the resources he has here, and I do like the direction the church is heading. I think it's kind of an "it's not you, it's me" sort of thing. Which brings me to the root of the problem--I think any Christian's greatest insecurity is that he or she is not doing enough to really have earned the title of Christian. I certainly feel the same, often, if not all of the time. Yes, God's grace, Jesus died for our sins so we don't have to worry about it, etc, etc, but there always seems to be more I need to be doing. I don't really know what my call is, vocationally, but I know that I have the same call to follow in Christ's footsteps that we all have, and I'm struggling with how exactly to do that in my life, with my resources. It feels like I'm not doing enough, but there's a huge gap between knowing and doing something about it, and that's scary, and the prospect of getting out there and trying is scary. Which brings me back to Christian community-I've always felt that Christian community exists as an enabler (in a good way), a sort of whole-is-greater-than-the-sum-of-its-parts arrangement. I've been rather disillusioned with the actual practice of Christian community lately, though, and I wonder whether this theory is practicable in this day and age. I think it is, I believe it is, but I haven't seen it in awhile, at least not personally. Returning to my previous point, I know the problem lies within, at least that part of the problem that's within my control, but it's tough to change, and scary to change, and at some point I begin to wonder whether change is really possible, and whether there exists a community in which I can change, and hopefully help others make the same change.

Anyways, that's my thoughts for the day. I'm pretty sure I'll have more tomorrow. Or maybe later today. But that's as much as my amazingly finite mind can handle for the moment.