No secrets. I love the Walking Dead. It is by FAR my favorite show on television. What started as a story about surviving the zombie-apocalypse has evolved into a story about what it means to be human. The Walking Dead title does not refer to the numerous zombies which populate the show, but the fact that the wear and tear of survival gradually strips the humanity of the characters in the show. Some characters are set up as villains (such as the mildly psychotic "Governor" in the current season), while others are rivals who "lose it" (such as fan favorite Shane in season 2). Even the stalwart leader of the group, ex-sheriff Rick Grimes, has spent several episodes experiencing increasingly vivid hallucinations. It seems like, to Rick, that non-reality is more compelling than reality. An attack from the Governor's private army keeps him from losing touch completely.
One of the compelling ironies of the third season of The Walking Dead is the juxtaposition of two situations: Woodbury and the prison. The Governor runs a modern town named Woodbury, where citizens live walled in from the zombie threat and isolated from the post-apocalypse. They wear clean clothes, have limited electricity and have picnics. They also live in a thinly veiled savagery. The town's entertainment is a Colosseum-like experience where contestants have to face each other and chained zombies. Newcomers to Woodbury are appalled at how callously the citizens treat the constant threat.
On the other hand, the main core of survivors have fortified a prison for their home. Beyond the irony of a prison being an ideal place to live, the prison has none of the comforts of Woodbury. The prison is full of zombies which are (mostly) sequestered from the main cells, although a few always sneak through. The prison fence is broken in areas and allow zombies to get into the main field, providing for regular encounters with the population. There is no electricity in the prison, and people sleep in bunks at the cells. But the people there have a picture of reality. They know what zombies are like and are committed to the common purpose of one another's survival. But they have no creature comforts. How do they possibly survive or even thrive without the Woodbury-like isolation and protection? They enjoy precious conversations, the joy of a shared joke and the common tie of family which holds them in all situations.
It is not hard to draw the parallels to non-zombie-invaded society. With the world being ravaged the way it is by crises of disease, war and hunger, those reading this post likely are doing so in Woodbury. You have enough. You are not scraping by to survive. And there are people across the world who are scraping by to survive who are enjoying moments of shared smiles, common joy and helping one another. Middle-class America, on the other hand, struggles with some of the worst depression, highest addiction rates and vicious domestic violence. And if you haven't experienced the despair of addiction, you may know the exasperation of living vacation to vacation, or surviving until "this season is over." And I could easily write a series of posts about the thinly-veiled savagery of a society which lets execution videos go viral.
I have told my coach "My goal is to get to (Day X), then my schedule will clear up." And sometimes that is true. What is far more likely is that I am living in a different kind of Woodbury ignorance. My world is directly affected by my choices, but I sometimes live in ignorance of that fact. Would I need to live vacation to vacation if I chose the abundant life offered to me in Jesus Christ (John 10:10) today? Would our society be the most self-medicated society in human history if we acknowledged that our lives are producing the exact result they are designed to produce? And would it be possible that we would experience resurrection in this life if we believed the promise of true rest in Jesus Christ?
As for me and my house, I see no better time than Lent to decide the Abundant Life over the Walking Dead.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Mardis Gras, Lent, SOTU and Sermon on the Mount
Millions of people did at least one of two things yesterday: eat Paczki's (or another indulgent dessert) and watch the State of the Union Address. It was simultaneously the greatest day of caloric excess allowed in organized religion as well as an update on the health of the nation. If you are beginning to see the irony... good. The State of the Union, or SOTU in the ever-increasing desire to abbreviate for social media, has long become less of an update and more of a preview of the political arenas of the next several months. The SOTU is a time for lines in the sand to be drawn. This is made more obvious when the SOTU is followed up by two additional speeches by opponents. It's a day to score points and use them as political capital to move agendas. Meanwhile, Mardis Gras (or Fat Tuesday) is a day for unlimited consumption, a certain party down in New Orleans and a day to "get it out of your system" before the fasting season of Lent. It is indulgent as well as delicious.
There is a common thread to both of these events. The common thread isn't about who is president, nor is it about politics. The common thread is that both days are days to relax one's personal responsibility. On Fat Tuesday, you can consume guilt-free. In the SOTU, you get to hear about how other people are supposed to make this land a better one in which to live. Your only responsibility is not to look. Don't look at the scale, don't look at your own life, don't look at your neighborhood.
Lent, on the other hand, is all about looking inward. Lent asks tough questions about excess and invites us into the liberating journey of self-control. Leave guilt and obsessive binge behind, embrace simplicity and grace. Lent holds up the funny paradox that getting everything we could ever want leaves us empty, but giving of ourselves to serve others leaves us full. In Lent, I find hope and energy in the Sermon on the Mount. What the SOTM lacked in pomp and circumstance it made up in grace and power. Imagine being on the brink of despair and hearing the words "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Imagine, in an empire which spread peace at the tip of a sword, hearing "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." Christ offers us a different way- a humble way, a merciful way.
Indulgence is easy, humility is hard. Drawing lines in the sand is easy, reaching across the lines to love one's neighbor is hard. Struggling for power and one's one agenda is not necessarily easy, but it certainly is easier than setting one's own agenda aside and listening. I guess that's why Fat Tuesday is only one day, and Lent is a 40-day journey. Perhaps this Lenten season is one where we can all pull together and embrace the Sermon on the Mount just a little bit in our lives.
There is a common thread to both of these events. The common thread isn't about who is president, nor is it about politics. The common thread is that both days are days to relax one's personal responsibility. On Fat Tuesday, you can consume guilt-free. In the SOTU, you get to hear about how other people are supposed to make this land a better one in which to live. Your only responsibility is not to look. Don't look at the scale, don't look at your own life, don't look at your neighborhood.
Lent, on the other hand, is all about looking inward. Lent asks tough questions about excess and invites us into the liberating journey of self-control. Leave guilt and obsessive binge behind, embrace simplicity and grace. Lent holds up the funny paradox that getting everything we could ever want leaves us empty, but giving of ourselves to serve others leaves us full. In Lent, I find hope and energy in the Sermon on the Mount. What the SOTM lacked in pomp and circumstance it made up in grace and power. Imagine being on the brink of despair and hearing the words "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." Imagine, in an empire which spread peace at the tip of a sword, hearing "Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God." Christ offers us a different way- a humble way, a merciful way.
Indulgence is easy, humility is hard. Drawing lines in the sand is easy, reaching across the lines to love one's neighbor is hard. Struggling for power and one's one agenda is not necessarily easy, but it certainly is easier than setting one's own agenda aside and listening. I guess that's why Fat Tuesday is only one day, and Lent is a 40-day journey. Perhaps this Lenten season is one where we can all pull together and embrace the Sermon on the Mount just a little bit in our lives.
Friday, February 1, 2013
I Don't Know What You Said
How important is listening? Consider this story.
When I was in seminary, I had the coolest invention in the world. It was a portable french press coffee maker. It was the size of a travel mug, and I would put my coffee at the bottom and put hot water into the mug. After a few minutes, I would push down a metal filter and it would push the coffee grounds to the bottom of my mug. I could then drink french pressed coffee on the go. It was so cool.
Until I got to the bottom of the mug. The filter was not perfectly designed to the mug, which did not have a consistent shape and size the whole way down (look at your travel mug and you will see). So when I drank the last bit of coffee, a landslide of coffee grounds would accompany the last gulp. The first time I had a mouthful of grounds, I was very unhappy. The mug has found its way to the garbage can.
Filters are very important. They keep the stuff you don't want away from the stuff you do want. We filter coffee, water and all sorts of other things in order to deliver the freshest stuff possible. We are encouraged to have filters in our minds as well. Christ gives us a two-part filter- love God and love neighbor. Anything that crosses into our minds which doesn't facilitate one of those actions ought to be filtered out.
But that isn't the only filter we have in our minds, is it? The work of maturity in the Christian life is one of constantly identifying and examining our filters.
In other words, I don't know what you say. I only know what I hear. You may say something to encourage me. I will hear something else because my mind filters and sifts what I hear based on what I believe about myself, God, you and the world.
Here is an example. I have a filter based on approval. If something that sounds like criticism hits my filter, it triggers a reaction. "You just don't like me," "You are wrong, I am right," "I am wrong, you are right." When I hear phrases like those, I am very likely to get an emotional reaction- an angry inner monologue, a desire to "check out," or a certain defensiveness which is unnecessary.
True listening, then, is some of the hardest work a person can do. Do you ever find yourself reacting to a person before the person is done speaking? Do you ever find yourself thinking about what "I wish I could say to _________?" Do you believe that "all ___________" believe and act the same way? Then you may have a mental filter which deserves to be investigated.
Unexamined filters have a name in our society- Prejudice. Unchecked prejudice in a society is a viral attack on God's intended shalom. And the only obvious cure for prejudice seems counter-intuitive- Listening. One of my goals is to hear as much of what you said and as little of what I filter as possible. I can't form a relationship with a filtered version of you, nor would I want to. I don't want a stereotyped/filtered version of me, I want the true me. And since I am called to love my neighbor as myself, I want to seek to know the authentic you.
So what is your filter? What keeps you from truly listening?
When I was in seminary, I had the coolest invention in the world. It was a portable french press coffee maker. It was the size of a travel mug, and I would put my coffee at the bottom and put hot water into the mug. After a few minutes, I would push down a metal filter and it would push the coffee grounds to the bottom of my mug. I could then drink french pressed coffee on the go. It was so cool.
Until I got to the bottom of the mug. The filter was not perfectly designed to the mug, which did not have a consistent shape and size the whole way down (look at your travel mug and you will see). So when I drank the last bit of coffee, a landslide of coffee grounds would accompany the last gulp. The first time I had a mouthful of grounds, I was very unhappy. The mug has found its way to the garbage can.
Filters are very important. They keep the stuff you don't want away from the stuff you do want. We filter coffee, water and all sorts of other things in order to deliver the freshest stuff possible. We are encouraged to have filters in our minds as well. Christ gives us a two-part filter- love God and love neighbor. Anything that crosses into our minds which doesn't facilitate one of those actions ought to be filtered out.
But that isn't the only filter we have in our minds, is it? The work of maturity in the Christian life is one of constantly identifying and examining our filters.
In other words, I don't know what you say. I only know what I hear. You may say something to encourage me. I will hear something else because my mind filters and sifts what I hear based on what I believe about myself, God, you and the world.
Here is an example. I have a filter based on approval. If something that sounds like criticism hits my filter, it triggers a reaction. "You just don't like me," "You are wrong, I am right," "I am wrong, you are right." When I hear phrases like those, I am very likely to get an emotional reaction- an angry inner monologue, a desire to "check out," or a certain defensiveness which is unnecessary.
True listening, then, is some of the hardest work a person can do. Do you ever find yourself reacting to a person before the person is done speaking? Do you ever find yourself thinking about what "I wish I could say to _________?" Do you believe that "all ___________" believe and act the same way? Then you may have a mental filter which deserves to be investigated.
Unexamined filters have a name in our society- Prejudice. Unchecked prejudice in a society is a viral attack on God's intended shalom. And the only obvious cure for prejudice seems counter-intuitive- Listening. One of my goals is to hear as much of what you said and as little of what I filter as possible. I can't form a relationship with a filtered version of you, nor would I want to. I don't want a stereotyped/filtered version of me, I want the true me. And since I am called to love my neighbor as myself, I want to seek to know the authentic you.
So what is your filter? What keeps you from truly listening?
Friday, January 11, 2013
The Hardest Part of Following Jesus
Today's story is a story of transformation. It's a story of growth, and of what incredible things can happen when we take the process of following Jesus seriously.
When I was a child, I played a game called "Pie Tag." You can only play Pie Tag in the winter. You walk around in a circle until you create a circular path in the snow in which you can run. Then you create several lines across the circle to create a pie-shaped path system in the snow. Then you play a pretty standard game of tag. The problem is that you can't ever step off the path, or you are "it." In other words, you are stuck on the path and have really limited movement. It gets surprisingly hard when you can't pass anyone. Add a few people, and Pie Tag is a blast.
Life is like a game of Pie Tag. Over time, I have learned to see my world through a lens. I have learned a few specific stories with which to interpret every single event, relationship and encounter. In other words, those stories wore paths in my brain and it isn't hard to feel stuck.
My most prominent story has been this: "There is no reason anyone should like you." (Please, don't leave any comments to the contrary- they aren't as helpful as one might think) I have played that game and walked that walk so long that it is a well-worn path in my brain. At times, it isn't hard to instantly jump there.. When I walk that path, my life becomes characterized by envy, false flattery, bitterness and all sorts of un-fun stuff. That pathway limits my ability to respond to you. In other words, that story isn't very liberating or empowering. It wants me to be as free as a man in chains, as a man in quicksand.
Psalm 40:2 states "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand." I believe salvation is a way out of the well-worn paths and a new way to respond to the world. Christ's death and resurrection gives us new eyes to see (2 Corinthians 5:7), new ears to hear (Luke 8:8) and a new mind to understand (Romans 12:2). In other words, Jesus tells a new story about who I am.
Christ intends for us to be free. I believe that the full and abundant life is one in which we are free from the Pie Tag patterns of our mind and free to hear who we truly are in Christ. I believe that to be free is not to be ensnared by the mud and mire of lies and deceit. I believe there is a new way to be in this world, and it's something I want.
Today I re-commit myself to stop the game of Pie Tag and to learn a new pathway. The pathway I am on is not about how terrible I am, but how great God is and how Christ is not ashamed to call me brother and friend. The pathway I am on embraces Faith, Hope and Love instead of Condemnation, Shame and Fear.
But it's not easy. I get why Lot's wife turned around and went back to Sodom even though it led to her death. Even when the well-worn pathway of shame sucks, there is a haunting appeal to the familiar. I also get why Jesus talks about putting the hand to the plow and not looking back. Even the best days can be sidelined by the old ways of thinking.
I much prefer the way of life. I find joy and excitement there. I find energy there. I find Christ there.
Anyone else with me?
When I was a child, I played a game called "Pie Tag." You can only play Pie Tag in the winter. You walk around in a circle until you create a circular path in the snow in which you can run. Then you create several lines across the circle to create a pie-shaped path system in the snow. Then you play a pretty standard game of tag. The problem is that you can't ever step off the path, or you are "it." In other words, you are stuck on the path and have really limited movement. It gets surprisingly hard when you can't pass anyone. Add a few people, and Pie Tag is a blast.
Life is like a game of Pie Tag. Over time, I have learned to see my world through a lens. I have learned a few specific stories with which to interpret every single event, relationship and encounter. In other words, those stories wore paths in my brain and it isn't hard to feel stuck.
My most prominent story has been this: "There is no reason anyone should like you." (Please, don't leave any comments to the contrary- they aren't as helpful as one might think) I have played that game and walked that walk so long that it is a well-worn path in my brain. At times, it isn't hard to instantly jump there.. When I walk that path, my life becomes characterized by envy, false flattery, bitterness and all sorts of un-fun stuff. That pathway limits my ability to respond to you. In other words, that story isn't very liberating or empowering. It wants me to be as free as a man in chains, as a man in quicksand.
Psalm 40:2 states "He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand." I believe salvation is a way out of the well-worn paths and a new way to respond to the world. Christ's death and resurrection gives us new eyes to see (2 Corinthians 5:7), new ears to hear (Luke 8:8) and a new mind to understand (Romans 12:2). In other words, Jesus tells a new story about who I am.
Christ intends for us to be free. I believe that the full and abundant life is one in which we are free from the Pie Tag patterns of our mind and free to hear who we truly are in Christ. I believe that to be free is not to be ensnared by the mud and mire of lies and deceit. I believe there is a new way to be in this world, and it's something I want.
Today I re-commit myself to stop the game of Pie Tag and to learn a new pathway. The pathway I am on is not about how terrible I am, but how great God is and how Christ is not ashamed to call me brother and friend. The pathway I am on embraces Faith, Hope and Love instead of Condemnation, Shame and Fear.
But it's not easy. I get why Lot's wife turned around and went back to Sodom even though it led to her death. Even when the well-worn pathway of shame sucks, there is a haunting appeal to the familiar. I also get why Jesus talks about putting the hand to the plow and not looking back. Even the best days can be sidelined by the old ways of thinking.
I much prefer the way of life. I find joy and excitement there. I find energy there. I find Christ there.
Anyone else with me?
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Relentless
Be Relentless. Such was the motto of this year's M22 Challenge. Everything from promotional materials to t-shirts had this simple two-word motto emblazoned on it. Those two words carried tremendous meaning and urgency. Be- races are part of a lifestyle, more than simply working out. The lifestyle is that of knowledge, diet, exercise, motivation, attitude. Relentless- literally, never turning back. No one turns around in a race. At least, no one turns around on purpose. Relentless means to never give in, never give up and to expend every last ounce of power and strength on achieving the goal. I wanted to be relentless.
Christians have a similar goal ahead of us. Be holy. Old Testament and New Testament alike bear witness to this goal. Be- the Christian life is the synergy of soul, spirit, mind, body, strength. Holy- never give in, never give up and expend every last ounce of power and strength on achieving the goal. Holiness as quiet piety works for many people, and I am not going to undermine that image. It just isn't mine. I think of holiness more and more in terms of being relentless.
Cornel West has a quote (big surprise that I would quote him) which covers holiness for me: "Interrogate your hidden assumptions." I would say the same thing, but add the word relentless: "Relentlessly interrogate your hidden assumptions." Growth never happens until we confront and interrogate our hidden assumptions. In the M22 Challenge, I assumed that I wasn't' in good enough shape to complete (much less compete) the course. Through training and diet, I interrogated that belief and found it false.
In holiness, I find myself interrogating my hidden assumptions constantly. Little phrases like "That'll never change," or "I always do that," need to be regularly held under the close inspection of the Spirit. In relentlessly confronting my own stories, I have found that the areas in my life in which I get "stuck" are not because I suck at life... they are because I believe an assumption and have never tested it.
Every relationship has assumptions. In my marriage, my assumptions were lifted up in the form of vows. In my friendships, in my family, I have assumptions. Sometimes, my assumptions are built out of my values and are quite healthy. Other times, my assumptions are selfish and are created in order to keep my life quiet and manageable.
I believe that there is more to life than "manageable." I believe that God is relentless and that Christ was relentless and that the relentless life is the only one worth living. Hopefully we can discover together the relentless life of God.
Christians have a similar goal ahead of us. Be holy. Old Testament and New Testament alike bear witness to this goal. Be- the Christian life is the synergy of soul, spirit, mind, body, strength. Holy- never give in, never give up and expend every last ounce of power and strength on achieving the goal. Holiness as quiet piety works for many people, and I am not going to undermine that image. It just isn't mine. I think of holiness more and more in terms of being relentless.
Cornel West has a quote (big surprise that I would quote him) which covers holiness for me: "Interrogate your hidden assumptions." I would say the same thing, but add the word relentless: "Relentlessly interrogate your hidden assumptions." Growth never happens until we confront and interrogate our hidden assumptions. In the M22 Challenge, I assumed that I wasn't' in good enough shape to complete (much less compete) the course. Through training and diet, I interrogated that belief and found it false.
In holiness, I find myself interrogating my hidden assumptions constantly. Little phrases like "That'll never change," or "I always do that," need to be regularly held under the close inspection of the Spirit. In relentlessly confronting my own stories, I have found that the areas in my life in which I get "stuck" are not because I suck at life... they are because I believe an assumption and have never tested it.
Every relationship has assumptions. In my marriage, my assumptions were lifted up in the form of vows. In my friendships, in my family, I have assumptions. Sometimes, my assumptions are built out of my values and are quite healthy. Other times, my assumptions are selfish and are created in order to keep my life quiet and manageable.
I believe that there is more to life than "manageable." I believe that God is relentless and that Christ was relentless and that the relentless life is the only one worth living. Hopefully we can discover together the relentless life of God.
Monday, November 26, 2012
There is a Me in We... If you flip one of the letters
Decidedly, Advent is one of my favorite times of year. It holds the mystery of "Christ is coming again" with the certainty of "Christ has come." It has a conspiratorial feel to it, as people think about living differently and the whispers of a different world. I love Advent.
It also comes with a cart-load of cultural baggage. If you read my last post, "What shall we call this spade," you know that I believe that the dominant picture of Christmastime as a consumeristic binge is idolatrous, if not blasphemous. But how to live differently? As I was lifting weights this evening, it occured to me... I need to ban the word "we" from my vocabulary until Christmas Day.
There is a part of me that loves to speak and write for its own sake. It loves to have people's attention and craves to hear the phrase "that's a great point." The word "we" includes you in on my "great point." It makes our struggle a collective one.
It also abdicates responsibility. I can say "we" and mean "you" or "them." We does not always include me. I can talk about "our struggle" and how "we" need to live differently this season, all the while making no plan or no effort to do it in my own life.
And so this season, I think I'm going to try to stop using the word "we" unless I actually mean "we." In a season all about what people should do for me (they should have one of those big-screens for ME, they should work with MY schedule), what if I instead took a stance where I will take responsibility for my actions and put my word to a different kind of Advent season?
It also comes with a cart-load of cultural baggage. If you read my last post, "What shall we call this spade," you know that I believe that the dominant picture of Christmastime as a consumeristic binge is idolatrous, if not blasphemous. But how to live differently? As I was lifting weights this evening, it occured to me... I need to ban the word "we" from my vocabulary until Christmas Day.
There is a part of me that loves to speak and write for its own sake. It loves to have people's attention and craves to hear the phrase "that's a great point." The word "we" includes you in on my "great point." It makes our struggle a collective one.
It also abdicates responsibility. I can say "we" and mean "you" or "them." We does not always include me. I can talk about "our struggle" and how "we" need to live differently this season, all the while making no plan or no effort to do it in my own life.
And so this season, I think I'm going to try to stop using the word "we" unless I actually mean "we." In a season all about what people should do for me (they should have one of those big-screens for ME, they should work with MY schedule), what if I instead took a stance where I will take responsibility for my actions and put my word to a different kind of Advent season?
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
"What do we call this spade?"
Let's call a spade a spade, shall we?
I worked in retail for about 7 years, a couple of those in a shift manager-type position. I know that the Christmas season is the bread and butter of the retail industry. Managers will be wringing their hands until Christmas Eve, hoping that the numbers will propel them to exist another year.
What's also true about the commercialism of Christmastime is that it is a well-crafted lie. Whereas the hymn says, "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight," the surrounding world says "The hopes and fears of all the years are on sale tonight." Materialistic Commercialism tells us that our hopes are made true and our fears can be satisfied by the acquisition of goods and services. It is also the hope of our economy and the hope of our nation- only by spending ourselves into debt can we keep our economy afloat and our nation in prominent standing in the world. Don't believe me? Watch the news in a week.
Let's call a spade a spade, shall we?
The celebration of Christmastime in the United States is idolatry.
Idols are gods who cannot live without our active participation. Consider 1 Samuel 5, where the priests of Dagon continue to prop up an idol that is defenseless against God's holiness. Or Isaiah 57:13 "When you cry out for help, let your collection of idols save you! The wind will carry all of them off, a mere breath will blow them away."
I recognize that, if we altered our patterns and rejected the consumerism, it would cost people their jobs. I recognize that our fragile retail economy rests on the fear of commercial apocalypse. I also recognize that we are being sold a false bill of goods which we know is false. But we are afraid to do anything different because of the very real impact.
So let's at least admit it. Let's admit that we are being sold oceanfront property in Montana (that is, we are being sold a lie). Let's admit that we are spending ourselves into oblivion and depression. Let's admit that the fear of living differently drives us. Let's call a spade a spade.
Then... let's dream of something different.
I worked in retail for about 7 years, a couple of those in a shift manager-type position. I know that the Christmas season is the bread and butter of the retail industry. Managers will be wringing their hands until Christmas Eve, hoping that the numbers will propel them to exist another year.
What's also true about the commercialism of Christmastime is that it is a well-crafted lie. Whereas the hymn says, "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight," the surrounding world says "The hopes and fears of all the years are on sale tonight." Materialistic Commercialism tells us that our hopes are made true and our fears can be satisfied by the acquisition of goods and services. It is also the hope of our economy and the hope of our nation- only by spending ourselves into debt can we keep our economy afloat and our nation in prominent standing in the world. Don't believe me? Watch the news in a week.
Let's call a spade a spade, shall we?
The celebration of Christmastime in the United States is idolatry.
Idols are gods who cannot live without our active participation. Consider 1 Samuel 5, where the priests of Dagon continue to prop up an idol that is defenseless against God's holiness. Or Isaiah 57:13 "When you cry out for help, let your collection of idols save you! The wind will carry all of them off, a mere breath will blow them away."
I recognize that, if we altered our patterns and rejected the consumerism, it would cost people their jobs. I recognize that our fragile retail economy rests on the fear of commercial apocalypse. I also recognize that we are being sold a false bill of goods which we know is false. But we are afraid to do anything different because of the very real impact.
So let's at least admit it. Let's admit that we are being sold oceanfront property in Montana (that is, we are being sold a lie). Let's admit that we are spending ourselves into oblivion and depression. Let's admit that the fear of living differently drives us. Let's call a spade a spade.
Then... let's dream of something different.
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