Every year, I cross the Northern Appalachians between AnthroCon in Pittsburgh and visiting my East Coast buds in Gettysburg and Allentown. Every time, I’m struck by how different they are from the mountains I’m used to here in CA. Low continuous ridges completely covered in green forest, instead of rugged sawtooths covered in low scrub that’s only green during our rainy season (what you call “Winter”). It’s like visiting the Shire after living in Isengard.

A Christianized version of the Elysian Fields, where death is permanent and your physical life temporary, where the Kingdom of God is “Somewhere Up There” instead of here and now, where Heaven is all and the Cosmos nothing.

Which starts a domino chain of Kismet-esque passivity and fatalism, why some of my college instructors called Christianity “the perfect slave religion” and the Wobblies sang with satirical nastiness
“In the Sweet By and by,
You’ll get Pie In the Sky When you die.”

iMonk, have you read any of Thomas L. Friedman’s books? I got “Longitudes and Attitudes” at a used book store, ’cause I like reading his NYT posts. It’s basically a compilation of his OP-ED/Essays, and could be a good way to organize your first book.

This would be a great first chapter to build a book around. Lots of ideas branching off to your other posts.

Which is not the same thing, by the way, as saying, “hey, those worship choruses have terrible theology, leave out scripture altogether, and are pretty much nothing but love songs to Jesus . . . which isn’t all bad, but sure isn’t the same as ‘A Mighty Fortress.’”

However, in defense of modern worship (and I love the old hymns as much as the next person–enough so that even when I lead contemporary worship, we sing them), time will likely wean out the worst offenders. If we went back and listened to every hymn that was ever written and sung in church, there would have been plenty of bad ones. But the act of printing a hymnal–of deciding as a body of believers that THESE songs deserved the cost and trouble of consolidation, arrangement, printing, and distribution–by its very nature weeded out a lot of the bad stuff.

There are plenty of modern choruses that are scripturally rich, musically interesting, and just plain-old GOOD. I’m a cusper; I grew up singing hymns in church, in four parts (Mom, soprano, Dad, alto, brother, tenor, me, bass), with my family. But I also sang choruses. So I love them both a great deal. I also love much older sacred music, though I’d be hard pressed to bring gregorian chant to my church.

Michael, I realize I just hijacked this thread. Shouldn’t have done that, except that I can only feel so bad when I know that you’ll moderate this comment if you don’t want it here.

Grandpa played guitar and sang on a local radio program. They’re all good strong Baptists, rooted in the church, warm, compassionate, and principled.

Once in a while, we drive up into the hills around Irvine, or go for a long hike in the Red River Gorge. It’s impossible to do that drive without coming across some pretty extreme poverty. But it’s interesting, too, that the drive to the Oregon coast from Portland brings you past houses that are in the same kind of dilapidated shape, in the mountains that run down the coast, into the ocean on one side and the Willamette Valley on the other.

For me, part of the joy of marrying into this family has been the incredible richness of culture that my children will inherit. It’s also one of the larger struggles. There are such gulfs of culture to cross. But I love them dearly and count myself lucky to have married into such a wonderful, lively, faithful people.

I was just listening to a song today that I have loved for a long time that ends with the chorus, “all the roots grow deeper when it’s dry.” It’s so true, but it doesn’t give me much comfort. I’d rather that we were all living in the abundance of Eden.

In any case, I know the beauty of that place, uniquely and from the outside looking in–but also uniquely, invited and welcomed into at least one family there. And I couldn’t agree more that the gift of that place–and places like it around the world–is the clear and abundant evidence of Jesus.

Romans 10:17 Consequently, faith comes from hearing the message, and the message is heard through the word of Christ

Unfortunately, religion is often taught instead of the word of Christ. They are told the Bible says do this or don’t do that. They are taught a better world awaits in Heaven, after death.

They are taught that if they live right they will meet Jesus after death. The get-right-with-Jesus message is about being good. I heard it over and over again in churches as a child. The emphasis was on behavior instead of relationship with Christ. If faith is about faith in a life after death, there’s not much reason to change present circumstance. The message boils down to life stinks but have faith that a better life awaits after death.

The message that transforms lives:

The tomb was empty!

Christ has risen!

Christ is with us today in our present reality.

The Kingdom of God is within us and among us right now!

This message can only be taught with credibility by people who believe it and live it. The message may not be understood unless it is repeated and demonstrated by people who know firsthand that Christ changes lives, because it goes against what they have always been taught. That is, life doesn’t change.

I have heard this so often from my rural Alabama relatives, this dull acceptance that life is pain and heartbreak and no matter what we do it will be pain and heartbreak. The only hope is a better life awaits us after death. Streets paved with gold and many mansions.

Life with Christ is still pain and heartbreak but we are not alone. We have one with us who understands every type of suffering. Life is still difficult and confusing, but we are not alone. The changes may be small, but even small changes add up.

With me, it’s John Bethancourt and Manly Wade Wellman’s John the Balladeer.