Elements of Story: Conflict

Story doesn't happen without conflict. As I briefly mentioned in my last post, imagine a story like this:

"In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And He created humans in His own image. And they all lived happily ever after."

That, of course, would be the world's dullest story. Although high school literature students might rejoice in its simple plot and straightforward characters, it would probably sell rather poorly. We love a story with conflict - in fact, conflict is absolutely essential to any story at all worth the telling, so much so that the story can't exist without it. And, of course, our Story is no different; conflict enters before we even get a chance to get acquainted with the main characters.

Genesis 3, of course, is the narrative to which I'm referring - The Fall, as it's most commonly known. And here, again, I think that too often we import the wrong questions into the story, again hoping to learn about who and when when what is at stake is why and how. We even bring Paul into the mess, reading certain parts of his interpretation back into the Story as though they belong, when what is really happening is that we haven't understood Paul. But more on that in a moment.

Here, again, I think it matters little how you answer the who and when questions. This story, more than any other, is about us, about how we as people are not functioning as designed, about why we are broken and why life doesn't seem to work. It is about naming the brokenness for what it is and showing how our very identities have been warped and twisted by this thing that we call sin.

I think it no accident that the curse that falls upon humanity strikes at two areas central to who we are as people: vocation and relationships. For a moment, let's set aside the gender connection, because the narrative, I think, suggests some ambiguity as to exactly how the curse struck the man and the woman. The man loses his purpose, his delegated authority over the ground - where before there was ease, now he will find resistance. The woman loses somewhat her ability to create life - now that very life-gift can bring death as well. Man and woman, both are struck in similar ways; the man in bringing life from the ground, the woman in bringing life from her body. And the connection between the two was severed as well, and for the first time in the narrative we read of dominion and authority of one person over another, symbolized in the name given and received - for what else is power but the ability to name, to define another's identity?

The plot threads begin to twist and twine together. Brokenness, and another of which we have yet to speak - redemption.

Elements of Story: Beginnings

A few weeks ago I posted a few thoughts about competing stories and the struggle for control over the meaning of our beginnings. I want to revisit that part of the story and perhaps approach it from a different angle. I think that the same thing that has happened to the end of the story has happened to the beginning; in other words, what should be an integral part of the plot has become something of a battleground that, for many of us, is often something of an embarrassment rather than something true and beautiful and mysterious. Frankly, I think that many of us in twenty first century first world Christianity would feel just a bit more at ease if the first eleven and the last twenty two chapters of the story somehow fell out of the book. That, I think, is unfortunate - a great tragedy, not only for us, but for the Story itself, because both beginning and end have something amazing to offer. The end, as I mentioned before, offers meaning and direction, hope and destiny, things of which we are too often in short supply. The beginning, on the other hand, offers something different.

We who have grown up with the typical questions and answers of the first few chapters of Genesis have, I think, a difficult time framing the narrative in other ways. We have been trained to read the story with the questions of what and when foremost in our minds. For some of us, that means trying our damnedest to prove that Darwin kicked puppies and ate children; for others, that means trying to figure out a way to pack six days into seven billion years or so. Neither objective, to be quite honest, interests me anymore. I've come to terms with those voices a long time ago, and rather than ask those questions of the text, I'm far more interested in what I think it's really trying to tell us - not what and when, but rather why and how. And frankly, if we can't figure out what the story says about those, it honestly doesn't matter how we answer the first two - we still miss the point.

Setting is incredibly important to story. In some sense, everything that plays out in a narrative depends on the context provided by the setting. The meaning behind the statement, "The Chiefs killed the Cowboys," for example, depends entirely on whether the setting is nineteenth century American west or twenty first century NFL. The beginning of Genesis provides us something of a setting in which the entire story is grounded, and begins to sketch out the direction that the story will follow.

What does infinite joy look like? I think it looks like the laughter of a Creator God over His good creation. "Good", I think, is a word that fails to capture what's going on in the creation account. It's so...plain. It's something of a tired word that fails to evoke wonder and astonishment. I've heard it said that what we see in Genesis 1 is the divine "WOW!" It's an amazement of Godly proportions. Imagine your best Christmas gift as a child, or your first kiss, or the birth of your children - then imagine that sense of wonder experienced by an infinite God. This is what we see happening in the beginning.

There's something of an invitation here too - creation is given permission to fill with life. Humanity is created in the image of God, and is invited to the head of the table. Notice, also, that there is no sense here of hierarchy, of domination, or of power - just joy and wonder and meaning and purpose.

And it was very good.

But good stories, stories worth telling, cannot begin with Happily Ever After...

New Blogs

Two of my favorite people in the world are now blogging. Josh Nolt and Kevin Goodrich are both part of my cohort at Biblical. You'll find Josh at raggedfaith.com and Kevin at dailyspirituality.com.

Go Read...

Ross's great thoughts on the role that story should play in our communities. Ross, as much as if not more than anyone else I read, is one person who consistently makes me think, "I wish I'd written that."

Elements of Story: Meaning

I thought perhaps it would be helpful to take a step back before we get too far into this project and throw out a few thoughts about how I'm currently approaching scripture. This thought of approaching the text as a grand narrative isn't new for me so much as it is surprising. What I mean by this is that, although it seems a fairly straightforward way of reading scripture, I think we in current first world contexts almost never let this approach impact how we understand scripture. In other words, we read a story and we hear soundbites, fortune-cookie length snippets of text that function as self-contained pieces of meaning. It's sort of like trying to appreciate Monet from six inches away, or like eating butter, flour, sugar, and vanilla and thinking, "What a great cake."

I've been reading an excellent book by Richard Horsley called Jesus and Empire. (Yes, this is what I do for fun; I've lost track of the number of times I've gotten a syllabus only to find I've previously purchased half of the texts for pleasure reading.) This book is a fascinating little volume that covers some of the same ground as Wright's NTPG, but with a concentrated focus on the Roman empire. One of the interesting pieces that Horsley addresses, though, is the way in which first-century Christians would have heard the gospels in the context of a primarily oral culture. Horsley has this to say:

As modern historical analysts and interpreters of ancient "texts", therefore, we must attempt to appreciate meaning as significant communication...All the factors we have considered indicate that meaningful communication is carried or evoked by "texts"/messages that are much larger and more complex than individual sayings. Far from focusing on isolated individual sayings and episodes, therefore, we must focus on...the overall story in Mark, in order to understand not only the whole picture but also the way each component of the overall series or story functioned in and helped constitute the whole picture.

To think of scripture as story is a shift, then, if we allow it to affect the way we understand its implications. What has become important to me of late is not so much what one character says on page 643, but rather the grand moves and sweeps of the plot. Practically speaking, what this means to me is this: meaning for a particular piece of the story is found in its relation to the plot. Sometimes, this means that a text may have deeper implications because of its connection to the larger story. Other times, a text sits in dissonance with the plot - at these points, I want to do two things. The first is to allow the dissonance to remain instead of attempting to force harmony in some misguided attempt to demonstrate a lack of contradiction. The second is to understand the dissonance for what it is and how it points to a future resolution. In this sense, scripture as story is similar in many ways to a symphony. A controlling theme carries through its movements, but sometimes the chords won't resolve easily. But dissonance in a musical score exists for a reason - it creates tension that points towards resolution. What I want to talk through in the next few posts includes both the controlling melody, the plot of the story, and the points of dissonance that long for resolution. That, in turn, will bring us back around to reconsider the ending towards which this whole tale is oriented.

Maintenance

I'm going to be doing some work on the site over the next week or so. I'm trying to upgrade to the new version of MovableType, which (in theory) should be fairly straightforward. I did, however, want to put the word out in case things go awry. ;)

Elements of Story: Telos

I like to read the end of books first. Part of the reason for this is that I, on some level, truly hate suspense. For some folks, that whole element of hanging in the balance and hold your breath sort of feeling that accompanies suspenseful situations gives them a rush or something. Personally, I just get nauseous.

I think it's fitting then, in some sense, to begin our exploration of the Story at the end. Before we're through, we'll jump around quite a bit anyway; the end, though, is probably one of the most frustrating pieces of the Story to understand and tell and live. It's generated more than it's share of controversy, hysteria, and division in recent years. To say that this is problematic is an understatement - the telling of the end of the Story has, in times past, been the source of hope rather than fear. This is what I want to recover, what I think we need to recover if we're to tell a story compelling enough to matter.

The chief problem, I think, is that we don't really know the end of the story, not in the sense that I know the end of the Lord of the Rings, for example. We are at the same time both narrator and participant in the story, and what we've been told of the end isn't exactly like reading tomorrow's news, contrary to what Pat might have to say. What we have to work with are a jumble of poetry and images, some rather disconnected pieces of theological musing, and some vague statements by Christ pointing to some future event or events, from his perspective, that will conclude his work.

This, I think, generates a certain amount of difficulty for us. We know, perhaps instinctively, that there is an end, a telos, towards which this story is heading. I think it also fair to say that this end is extremely important, vital even, to telling the story well and truly. But we find ourselves caught in the suspense of not being able to see with clarity what that end looks like and to articulate it compellingly enough to bring closure to the storyline.

This, perhaps, is by design in some way, but I have to believe that we can do a better job than we've done thus far. Where are we to turn? Perhaps an examination of the rest of the story may bring sufficent resources to bear on the problem to allow us to reach some conclusions without eliminating the suspense. Next up - beginnings.

Reflections on A Generous Orthodoxy Conference

What an incredible weekend! It was how I imagine the experience of being in a context where you're unable to speak in your native tongue and then returning to a place where everyone speaks your language. The team at Off the Map did a fantastic job of pulling things together. Some random thoughts:

• Brian McLaren isn't evil. He talks about Jesus like they're best friends. Also, he has a phenomenal grasp of what it means to participate in the Kingdom. His understanding of "gospel" just happens to be bigger than "butts in seats" (most quoted phrase of the weekend, I think).


• Kudos to Bill of Bill Bean Books for being our paperback pimp for the weekend. The thought did occur to me that having an onsite bookstore was sort of like setting up a Guinness table in the lobby of an AA meeting, but Bill assured us that he would talk someone down if they started to overindulge. (I walked away with only three new reads, so I count that as a mixed success.)


• I had an opportunity to chat with Jason Clark, who is one of the few people I've met who are possibly more well-read than I. I hope to catch up with Jason again next summer; our cohort at Biblical will be in London for a cross-cultural experience.


• John Franke is the only person I've ever met who can use "Barthian" in casual conversation and sound completely natural.


• Best thing about the conference, though, was being able to connect more deeply with some folks from my church. Joy and I have been attending for over a year, but because of our insane schedules we haven't really developed much in the way of relationships. It was good to spend time with folks from our community - there are some truly kindred spirits here, I think, and I'm glad that we've landed where we have.


• Big idea from the weekend - start small. (Ironic, I suppose. ;) Seriously - I think a lot of us find the thought of getting started at Kingdom-work to be intimidating. There are so many needs, and we're so overwhelmed with life as it is. Brian mentioned something refreshing and hopeful about seasons in our lives. We can't always participate in big ways. At the moment, my Kingdom focus has to include my call to raise two (soon to be three) little boys into men. But I can make space for small things, and hopefully do so in ways that the boys can participate as well.

Catching Up

I'm finally starting to feel like a real person again. After my intense push to finish my course work for last Thursday, I got home at around 11:00, only to jump into getting ready for the Generous Orthodoxy conference on Friday and Saturday. Bed at 12:30, up again at 4:45, on the road for the conference by 5:30. The conference itself was amazing; more on that in a bit. But I'm working with about 4 hours of sleep. Bed on Friday at about 1:30, up again at 7:30 - things aren't improving on the sleep front. Long story short - things caught up with me yesterday, and I slept a full 16 hours (!) thanks to a nice migraine I developed.

Fortunately, I have a week off work with no plans - time to get caught up on my posting.

Making Connections

I'm having another one of those weeks where disparate experiences are coming together in an interesting set of juxtapositions. I've been thinking a bit more about the whole question of story, about how we interpret our lives and our experiences through story and about how we as Christians so often do such a poor job of telling stories that help in this matter of interpretation. This line of thought has connected with some rather odd occurrences, that in and of themselves have no direct relation. First, I picked up the new David Crowder cd last week, and I've been digesting it - really good stuff, and perhaps the most interesting part is the undercurrent of story, particularly eschatological story, that runs through the lyrics. So this prompted some thinking on the sort of odd eschatology that happens in the emerging church - which, basically, is none. And I'm wondering, now, why it is that a movement (don't throw rocks - I used the "m" word) that prides itself so much on story has more or less ignored this one component that's so critical to the Old and New Testament narratives - the inauguration of the Kingdom? Left Behind nonsense not withstanding, it seems that apocalyptic speech needs redemption far more than it needs abandonment.

On another front, a friend forwarded this rather odd email from a pastor in our general area going off on another "emerging church - Satan, or something worse?" sort of rant. Most of these rants I just ignore; they're usually not informed enough to bother reading. This one, I did read, more out of a morbid curiosity than anything else (and I wasn't disappointed). But in between the lines of this rather sorry attempt at a critique, I had another thought - part of this we do to ourselves, because I'm not convinced that those of us who have bought shares in the emerging church, so to speak, can do a solid job of articulating an alternative interpretation of the biblical story to the one told by fundagelicalism. Sure, we can pick apart their version - but can we tell a better one, one that is grand and broad and deep and beautiful? Or do we just tell a different set of episodes in some oddly disjointed miniseries, episodes that have no connection except that the main characters all sort of float in and out with some degree of regularity?

Here's what I mean - I read a lot of stuff in and around this conversation that's just sloppy. I read people advocating unversalism or a particular approach to the afterlife or tolerance for this-or-that or even something as central to the story as social justice and it's not grounded anywhere except in something that passes for a storyline in episode 43. The problem with this is that I don't really see a difference between this and proof-texting, except that it's a bit more fun to read.

Maybe I'm wrong; maybe I just haven't found the right conversations. But I think that until we're able to articulate a story that is true to the Story, faithful to the Community of the saints, and that inspires our own imaginations, we'll never have the sort of transformational effect on twenty-first century first-world Christianity that I know most of us want. The rub is that I think it's there - I think the Story, when read and told truly and lovingly, has many of the pieces that we, generally speaking, are claiming. We just need to start inhabiting it, to put down the scripts for the uninspired episodes and trade up for the epic of which we're already a part.

More to come - I think I need to unpack this a bit more.