By Kurt Willems

In her bestselling book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband Master, Rachel Held Evans chronicles her experiment with radically living out the scriptural commands about womanhood. She highlights the beauty of the Bible while also confronting the hyper-literalism so prevalent in regards to gender issues.

After finishing the last section of this book, I realized that something spoke to me in a personal way: A Year of Biblical Womanhood makes me want to become a better man.

The interactions of Rachel and Dan, her husband, connected to me profoundly. I found myself imagining what it would be like if my wife, Lauren, lived “biblically” for the year. Having gourmet meals every night, “commanding” my wife in various ways, seeing a sign displaying my greatness at the city gates, receiving a “sex anytime” coupon and hearing my wife call me “master” all sound like a recipe for a fun year.

If Lauren were engaged in this project, my first temptation would be to take advantage of her vulnerability. That silly impulse is quickly overshadowed as I read Dan’s journals, which are included in the book. He writes: “It’s like I have a trump card. I don’t know how I feel about it. For the last decade our relationship has been built on mutual understanding. If disagreements come up, we work through the issues on a level playing field. I’ve always felt respected by Rachel, so I’ve never felt the need to have a final, conversation-stopping, decision-making catchphrase” (p. 206).

Like Dan, the idea that I should have some sort of spiritually ordained trump card in our marriage simply doesn’t compute with my experiences, my biblical beliefs or my relationship to Jesus. Jesus never “trumped” the women in his life out of a patriarchal notion of superiority. Even in Paul’s letters, if we understand certain “trump” passages in their theological, social and first century contexts, we see that mutuality is the biblical goal.

A Year of Biblical Womanhood reminded me that marital partnership (rather than patriarchy) is a choice one must make every single day. It’s not a romantic holy abstraction. Well, it probably should include some romance, but marriage is a concrete privilege that takes humility and, frankly, hard work. Each day I must choose to love Lauren as Christ loved the church and to submit to Lauren out of reverence for Christ.

In this regard, Rachel eloquently states: “When you realize that faith is not static, that it is a living and evolving thing, you look less for so-called ‘spiritual leaders’ to tell you where to go, and more for spiritual companions with whom to travel the long journey. And when you learn that marriage is a slow dance, not a tango, you worry less about who’s taking the lead and instead settle into the subtle changes in each other’s movements, the unforced rhythms of each other’s body to life’s music” (p. 204).

Thanks to Rachel and Dan for spending a unique year testing “biblical womanhood.” By humbly stretching the constrictive categories of gender roles to their ridiculous literal extremes at times, they have reminded us husbands that living in mutuality with our wives is a sacred objective. Ultimately, mutuality requires the Christ-centered, self-sacrificial love of both partners.

Kurt Willems, a 2012 graduate of Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary, is preparing to be a church planter in Seattle, Wash., with the Brethren in Christ. He, his wife, Lauren, and their soon-to-be-born baby girl currently live in Visalia, Calif. Willems is a freelance writer for various print and online publications, including his personal blog hosted by Patheos (KurtWillems.com).

By Matthew Ford

Sometimes life throws a “new normal” at you that significantly shakes things up and causes you to rethink or look differently at the world in which we live. Six years ago I experienced a new normal that invited me to look a little harder at my world. So my wife and I moved from a nice suburb into our city’s highest crime and highest poverty neighborhood. Now I find myself waking up every morning, not to the sound of birds chirping but to the jangle of shopping carts being pushed through the alley by those who are homeless or collecting cans and bottles as a means of survival.

A few weeks ago my church hosted a showing of The Line, a recent documentary by Sojourners that looks at the growing reality of suburban poverty. A new normal emerged for many as we wrestled together—some for the first time—with this reality.

One reason I appreciate this film is because it tells the stories of real people who find themselves in unexpected and unwanted situations. An ex-banker now relies on food stamps. An aging fisherman struggles because his shrimp-catching business was devastated by the Gulf oil spill. Most of us think those in poverty are lazy, stupid or addicted to something and that if they would only work harder they would get out of the situation they find themselves in.

The Line stories shatter those stereotypes. As I interact with the folks pushing their shopping carts down our alley, I have learned that their stories go much deeper than an addiction or laziness. It’s just not as easy as “if they would only work a little harder.”

Those of us jammed into our church classroom found ourselves engaged in a conversation that took us out of our normal way of thinking. We were stretched by questions: How can we prevent ourselves from stereotyping those struggling with poverty and better understand and support those who want to live meaningful and dignified lives in spite of their circumstances? What are some things on a local level that can be done to address some of the issues that contribute to poverty? What would you do if you found yourself in one of these situations?

The Line has fostered a conversation that has helped us continue down the road we are deeply committed to as a church: the road of neighborhood engagement. One adventure is launching a nonprofit community organization to further help meet the needs of the neighborhood. Another adventure is possibly purchasing a house in the neighborhood where interns will live, engage in the neighborhood through the church’s local ministries and develop as emerging leaders.

I am thankful for the gathering at my church where we wrestled with the realities of poverty in our country and in our neighborhoods. I trust that the hard stories presented in The Line will serve us well as we seek to follow Jesus into hard places and be the solution that brings life.

Matthew Ford is pastor of youth and family ministries at North Fresno MB Church in Fresno, Calif.

Tolkien's novels remind us that a new day is on the way

by Carmen Andres

This month, J.R.R. Tolkien’s Middle Earth returns to the big screen with The Hobbit. The story takes place some 50 years before The Lord of the Rings, and it is here that we first encounter the Shire and Rivendale, dwarves and elves, Gandalf and Gollum and that infamous One Ring. It is here where we first encounter a world and story that echoes so much of our own.

Tolkien’s stories are rich and mythic, something that, says C.S. Lewis in his essay on the saga, “takes all the things we know and restores to them the rich significance which has been hidden by ‘the veil of familiarity.’” Good and evil, peril, anguish, joy—“By dipping them in myth,” says Lewis, “we see them more clearly.”

Indeed it is one of those stories that sticks with you, a story “full of darkness and danger,” as Samwise Gamgee puts it, but in the end a “new day will come, and when the sun shines, it’ll shine out the clearer.” It is a saga filled with a deep sense of longing for that new day—an “anguish,” says Lewis, “of those who were happy before a certain darkness came up and will be happy if they live to see it gone.”

Perhaps it is fitting, then, that we visit Middle Earth again at Christmas—for both are full of this longing.
In the midst of nativity scenes and Christmas trees, we can forget the world Jesus was born into. God’s people were in the midst of one of the darkest times of their history. They’d spent centuries “trying to live out God’s design for Israel,” as Scot McKnight says in The King Jesus Gospel, “to govern this world redemptively on God’s behalf.” They failed.

Like the people of Middle Earth under the threat of Mordor, the Israelites lived under Rome’s iron fist and longed for release and a restoration to the people God promised they would be. They yearned for a King who would set the world right. We feel this in Mark’s Messiah-heralding words from Isaiah (1:1-3), Mary’s Magnificat rent with longing (Luke 1:46-55) and John’s harkening back to the very in-the-beginning of a creation created good (1:1). They longed for a new day.

Jesus is the fulfillment of that longing—and through him God’s restoration explodes into a much vaster reality than dreamed by the Israelites: God’s people remade and empowered by the Holy Spirit, says McKnight, to be “servants of God’s love, peace, justice and holiness. This was … the right way to govern the world on God’s behalf: by loving others with everything we’ve got.”

Recalling the Israelite’s story is important because, as McKnight puts it, it is “the framing story for how to understand the gospel.” Recalling only Christmas is like reading only one of Tolkien’s novels; we would know only part of the story. “To grasp the gospel,” says McKnight, “we have to grasp what God is doing in this world”—from creation to Jesus to the shining city on a hill.

Unlike Tolkien’s Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, our story is not yet over. Our world-righted ending is yet to come—a glorious day in that city ruled by our King. We’ve tasted this new day, says Paul, but “these sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance” (Romans 8:22-25). Yet we are only “enlarged in the waiting,” a people once happy before a certain darkness and happy again because we know we will live to see it gone.

Carmen Andres is a freelance writer and blogger and former CL editor who lives in Alexandria, Va.

by Tim Neufeld

Spinning. Slipping. Colliding. Many of us have faced such uncertain moments in life. In a post-9/11 world, the insecure culture that so quickly engulfs our souls has left us distrustful of politics, unsure of the economy, cynical of science and skeptical of religion. Nothing seems permanent or stable anymore.

Through their song “Vertigo,” the rock band U2 has helped me reflect on the life’s instability. In the music video for this song, band members spiral up and down, trying to hold their ground on wildly undulating rings of an enormous bull's eye, while being blasted with gale-force winds in a featureless desert.

Lead singer Bono cries out, “I’m at a place called vertigo,” to which guitarist Edge responds, “Donde esta?” (loosely meaning, “Where are you?”). The song offers both confession and question about the world around. In one version of the song Bono sings:

Lights go down it’s dark
The jungle is your head
Can't rule your heart
And fear is taking over every thought

One of my greatest fears is uncertainty. This is only compounded in our noisy, spinning world—a world that was once predictable but is now so often unclear.

The lyrics continue:

I can't stand the beats
I'm asking for the check
Girl with crimson nails
Has Jesus 'round her neck

Bono has said "Vertigo" is a commentary on the culture in which we live: "I was thinking about this awful nightclub. You're supposed to be having a great time . . . . It's that woozy, sick feeling of realizing that here we are, drinking, eating, polluting, robbing ourselves to death. And in the middle of the club, there's this girl. She has a cross around her neck, and the character in [the song] stares at the cross just to steady himself."

In the midst of chaos, says Bono, the image of Jesus grounds us; it’s here that we find hope and meaning. In this moment love breaks through, teaching us, stabilizing us. In the song’s final lyric, Bono declares, “Your love is teaching me how to kneel.”

I had one of those earthshaking moments recently. I was driving my family on a rural road when an oncoming car suddenly crossed into our lane. At freeway speed we slammed into the passenger side of the vehicle, pole-vaulting our car into the air. Spinning around, we landed upright with only abrasions and bruises. Sadly, one person in the other car died and another suffered critical injuries.

I will never forget the explosion of air bags, the screeching of brakes and seeing the world whirling around through the window behind my wife. It was a life-altering experience. The physical pain of whiplash was equal to the emotional grief we faced. I was confronted by life’s fragile and tenuous nature.

There are collisions of the heart as well as collisions of metal and machine. For some, vertigo comes through a lost relationship, a broken marriage, the death of a loved one. Others might be knocked off balance by loss of a job, betrayal of a friend or serious illness. Sooner or later, everyone feels the ground shift beneath their feet.

Our car accident rocked me in a way that I could never have imagined, but through the chaos and uncertainty, Jesus has grounded me. His cross and empty tomb provide meaning and hope. His love is teaching me how to kneel with gratitude and love for a God that sees me through the spinning and slipping and colliding.

I’ve been to a place called vertigo—more than once—and I know I’ll be there again. Donde esta?

Tim Neufeld is assistant professor of Contemporary Christian Ministries at Fresno Pacific University. He teaches a class called “Theology, Culture and U2” and writes for the website www.atu2.com, usually on the theme of theology and culture. For more information about U2’s Christian influence, see his personal blog at www.timneufeld.blogs.com and select the “U2 & Theology” category.

By Roger Fast

I first read Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand because a 1991 survey showed it among the most influential books in America; it was second only to the Bible. The premise of Atlas Shrugged is that capitalist entrepreneurs are carrying the burden of America’s economy on their shoulders, just like the mythical Atlas carried the earth on his shoulders. Tiring of government regulations and taxes, those entrepreneurs “shrug” off their burden, so to speak. They go on strike, forming their own secret utopian community. In so doing, they let the nation’s economic engines grind to a halt.

John Galt, Rand’s hero in the novel, hijacks the radio airwaves during the strike, and for an hour he harangues the nation (and the reader), speaking against government’s obstruction of the free market. It is a diatribe against taxation of the wealthy in order to provide for the poor. Galt is against any kind of self-sacrifice no matter how small, including the forced sacrifice represented by taxes.

The big problem as he sees it is that Christian values has poisoned the American economy. Galt ridicules those whose hero (Jesus) accepted the metaphorical label of “sacrificial lamb.” He blasts Jesus’ teaching that the poor should be helped because of their need. Pure capitalism requires that everyone act in self-interest. Equal value in return should be demanded for every service or commodity provided, with money, and gold in particular, as the standard of value. Through Galt and the other characters, Rand makes it clear that there is no place for altruism either in the national economy or in one’s personal life. There is no place for Jesus’ command to “love your neighbor as yourself.”

As I read this long novel, I felt the usual tug to identify with the hero. But I kept thinking about Jesus’ saying that you can’t serve both God and mammon. Rand agrees with that, but she chooses mammon. I wondered if her book could really be that influential in a country that gives so much authority to the Bible. But a close look at some of our nation’s leaders confirms Rand’s influence.

Probably the most notable current example is Congressman Paul Ryan, chairman of the House Budget Committee and now vice presidential candidate. He has based his whole political philosophy around Atlas Shrugged. In 2003 interview, Ryan praised Rand and added, “I give out Atlas Shrugged as Christmas presents, and I make all my interns read it.” After he defended his 2012 budget proposals in a Catholic university speech in April, church leaders criticized his budget as reflecting the values of Ayn Rand rather than the gospel of Jesus Christ.

We live in a world of competing values, and we have to make compromises. None of us can raise a family following completely the advice Jesus gave to the rich young ruler. On the other side, even a dedicated Randian wouldn’t make her child pay for room and board. At the national level, budgets have to balance many competing goals. It is my strong preference that my leaders make these tough decisions less under the influence of Rand and her demand that we love self and money and more under the influence of Jesus and his demand that we love God and neighbor.

Roger Fast, a member of College Community Church in Clovis, Calif., is a retired surgeon and was a missionary to Zaire from 1980 to 1984. He and Joan, his wife of 44 years, have four children and two grandchildren.

By Carmen Andres

The movie version of The Hunger Games prompts us to think carefully about how we tweak our stories and testify to God’s work in our own lives. God’s Story is wild and alive and our efforts to share His story with others should reflect its complexity.

When The Hunger Games hit theaters, John Granger posted “Gamesmakers Hijack Story: Capitol Wins Hunger Games Again” on his blog (www.hogwartsprofessor.com). Granger points out how director Gary Ross subtly tweaks the story to be sympathetic to filmmakers' art and Hollywood—things of which the novel is critical. Essentially, Ross changes the story, retelling it through a lens affected by his own experience and perspective.

As I read the article, I wondered how conscious Ross was of why he made those changes. Then I started to consider it more personally: How do we retell our own stories? And how aware are we of why we retell it the way we do?

I encountered this issue when I started going through children’s Bibles and child-age theological material with my kids. I was bothered by how some of the individual stories are retold (or completely left out) and the way this affects the Bible, God’s Story, as a whole. I also was bothered by overt threads of doctrine. Often, the doctrines themselves weren’t wrong, but they were limiting.

Salvation was explained as a matter of forgiveness of sins but little if anything was included about God’s transforming love, the restoration of our relationships not only with God but each other, the power God gives us to live new lives as individuals and a community and how to work with God in our transformation. Granted, these are big ideas for little minds, but then so is the justification theory of atonement that played throughout the material.

I do this too. We all do. How we understand and retell God’s Story is affected by a wide range of things, from our own walk with God and those who mentored us to the theology and doctrine we pick up along the way. Most of the time, we aren’t even aware of how our understanding of the Story is shaped until something causes us to examine it.

Which is why it is so important to constantly return to God’s Story itself.

It’s been said that modern generations have the most access to the Bible, yet we are the most biblically illiterate. We’re busy. It’s easier to read an article or listen to a sermon than go to God’s Word ourselves. When we actually do read the Bible, we tend to skip over aspects we find hard to understand or difficult to deal with.

God’s Story doesn’t fit into a neat box. It is wild and alive. It is always revealing, a sharp sword that cuts through the veils of the worldviews we’ve created. But we need to be constantly confronted with the whole Story because it will challenge our ideas of how the world works, who we are and, most importantly, who God is. In A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis records how God strips away false beliefs and understandings to reveal himself: “Not my idea of God, but God.” God constantly confronts us with our limited beliefs and perspectives because he wants to be known for who he is.

Returning to the Bible, God’s Story, is one of the ways we can work with him to do that. And it’s important that we constantly examine our beliefs and perspectives, because what we understand our story to be and who we understand God to be is what we will retell to others. And as God’s people, it’s important that we work with him to get that right.

Carmen Andres, a former CL editor, is a freelance writer living in Alexandria, Va. In her blog, "In the Open Space: God and Culture," Andres writes about God and faith as she encounters popular culture, movies, television, books and events.

By Valerie Rempel

Personal memoirs seem to be showing up everywhere. Spend a few minutes at your local bookstore or favorite Internet site and you’ll find dozens of titles and as many different topics. Everyone, it seems, has a story.
Writers with connections to U.S. Mennonite Brethren are no exception.

Katie Funk Wiebe, a longtime contributor to the Christian Leader, has published several memoirs including her recent book, You Never Gave Me a Name: One Mennonite Woman’s Story (Dreamseeker Books, 2009). Rhoda Janzen, a professor and poet, made the New York Times bestseller’s list and stirred some controversy with her humor-laced Mennonite in a Little Black Dress (Henry Holt & Co, 2009). Rhonda Langley, a special education teacher, took a different approach with a self-published memoir titled Mennonite in Blue Jeans: a Lenten Journey (Forest Rose Books, 2011) and this spring, poet Jean Janzen’s memoir, Into the Wild: Essays on Faith and Writing, will be released (Good Books, 2012).

Why do we read or write memoirs?

For Christians, exploring our lives and fashioning our stories is a way to reflect on how God has been at work. As Thomas Larson puts it, writing a memoir is “useful in getting at the truth.”

At the heart of a good memoir is an interesting story. Wiebe’s account of her youth, marriage and early widowhood is especially notable for the way it propelled her into new roles as a parent, writer, professor and Christian feminist who struggled with the limits often imposed by the church and its established patterns of leadership. Reading about Wiebe’s struggle to find her own voice and place in the church reminds readers of how important it is to be faithful to God’s call and gifting.

Like Wiebe, Rhoda Janzen has struggled to come to terms with her Mennonite upbringing. She deliberately distanced herself from that tradition and so her account of coming home to spend a sabbatical writing and recovering from surgery and a broken marriage is a story of cultures clashing. With great humor, she reflects on the values of her parents and the community that raised her, eventually coming to realize that she is inextricably tied to these people and their ways. Sometimes it is as hard to come home as it is to leave.

Janzen and Langley both grew up in Fresno, Calif., but offer two very different perspectives on that experience. Where Janzen felt hemmed in by the expectations of her community, Langley found comfort and personal identity. They are like siblings who grew up together but have very different memories of family life.

Langley, now living in Portland, Ore., easily embraces the way her faith was shaped by her family and home church. Framed within the context of a Lenten journey, she explores the challenges of a family life shaped by her husband’s physical disability and the special needs of her children. Langley reminds her readers that living a life of faithfulness to God does not guarantee material abundance. Sometimes, she suggests, the landscape is rough and Christians are called to exhibit the “dogged patience of dusty olive trees” and the “deep-rootedness of low-growing herbs.”

Reading a memoir is a little like peaking in someone’s window. We get a glimpse of someone else’s life. In doing so, we are encouraged to reflect on our lives and choices, as well.

Valerie Rempel lives in Fresno, Calif., and is eagerly waiting to read Jean Janzen’s forthcoming memoir.

By Jessica Mast

Buying the 2009 Mumford and Sons album Sigh No More was an incredibly foolish decision. It was an impulsebuy in the intoxicating halls of Amoeba Music, a purchase based on small snippets of these British folks rock songs I had just vaguely heard. It was a fantastic decision.

My experience of romantic love has not been altogether perfect. It seems this is a common burden, hoping for people to love us perfectly and then coming to the harsh realization that they are merely people. (Go figure.)

 Turning on the radio, one finds romance everywhere—confessions of head-over-heels infatuation, frustration and sorrow at love gone wrong, blame toward that two-timin’ woman or that man who can’t be trusted. But from Mumford, I heard something entirely different that took me by surprise: an apology.

But it was not your fault but mine
And it was your heart on the line
I really f*ed it up this time
Didn’t I, my dear?

This raw confession comes from Little Lion Man, with the popular edited version never quite capturing the intensity of what it means to blunder so badly. For whatever the reason, these men singing are passionately apologetic, recognizing the damage caused and begging for forgiveness. In the album’s title song, there is an equally passionate and mournful cry of the simple, “I’m sorry.”

I wish I could hear the people who’ve hurt my heart sing out these lyrics, cursing and all. God knows the times I need to sing them out as well, cursing and all. There is something about owning the pain, crying out in repentance and hope for reconciliation that restores my faith in that reconciliation. It reminds me to forgive, even when nobody may come serenading me with the words of Mumford.

Mumford has pushed me to forgive those I thought I might never forgive. And Mumford has given me hope that others can forgive me when I do not deserve it in the least. This is redemption in action.

What sustains my hope for redemption is this vision of love that Mumford offers, a vision of love that is nothing short of the beautiful kingdom of God.

Love, it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be
There is a design, an alignment
A cry of my heart to see
The beauty of love as it was made to be

In the same breath in which the men of Mumford take ownership of humanity’s shortcomings, they proclaim a love boundless and fulfilling—the love we were meant to encounter in relationship with God. They call us to pursue this love, as they sing, “Awake my soul, for you were made to meet your maker.”

What motivates me to forgive is not assurance that humanity will drastically change, that the love I receive from people will somehow become perfect, that romance will suddenly turn easy. What motivates me to forgive is knowing that there is something bigger and better than human romance in store. From the album’s closing track After the Storm, the music of Mumford articulates a hope that I cannot resist, a hope that echoes this kingdom we seek.

But there will come a time, you’ll see
With no more tears
And love will not break your heart
But dismiss your fears
Get over your hill and see what you find there
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

Mumford reminds me that this love—the love that will not break my heart—is real, and is worth hoping for.

Jessica Mast, Fresno, Calif., works with the youth at Mennonite Community Church, loves her inner-city neighborhood and is always excited about good music. She has also attended Fresno Pacific Biblical Seminary. Mast shares thoughts on the journey of spirituality at jessicaleighmast.wordpress.com.

By Wally Kroeker

A young friend was surprised to hear that I usually scan the obituaries in our local newspaper. “You must be getting old.” I suppose so—I find more and more familiar names in the death notices. I read the obituaries because this is where I cut my teeth in the newspaper business. “Good place to learn reporting,” my first editor said.

I also check obituaries to see what they say about people’s work. A few read like a resume, with inflated litanies of professional achievement. Others do the reverse, skipping anything related to work. In effect, they say, “Look, this person had a life beyond work.”

Such was the case with my friend Jack. He ran a small music store near my home back when I was lurching through adolescence and dreaming of a career as a musician. I often dropped in to buy sheet music, records (remember them?) or a bottle of trumpet valve oil. Or just to chat.

A kind and wise older man who had played in a lot of big bands, Jack offered tidbits of counsel that helped stabilize my stormy youth. His little store, his means of livelihood, was more than a place of commercial transactions. For me, it was an inviting place of warmth and affirmation.

Then I moved away. When I returned many years later, Jack’s store was gone and he was dying. At his memorial service, I heard not a word about Jack’s long career or the place where he had mentored me. As I listened, I wondered if I had stumbled into the wrong funeral. Where was the Jack I had known? It was as if he had never worked. Perhaps those who planned his memorial service didn’t know his work was important. But it was important to me, at least.

Recently I heard echoes of Jack’s memorial when someone declared, “I’m going to write my own obituary to makes sure it says nothing about my business.” What a pity—not only because readers will be deprived of vital information, but also because he thinks there is little lasting value in the activity that has consumed most of his waking hours for four decades.

There was a time when gravestones told tales of those who lay beneath. Like this one from many centuries back: “Here lies Dion, a pious man; he lived 80 years and planted 4,000 trees.”

“When I die,” says William Rentschler, former chair of Medart Corporation, “I hope whoever delivers the eulogy will remember me as one who sought always to provide steady, decent, challenging jobs, which allowed good people to support their families, build and retains their self-esteem and (quoting Teddy Roosevelt) ‘work hard at work worth doing.’”

Here’s a task to kick off the New Year: Why not write your own obituary? Ponder how you’d like to be remembered. Include the things most important to you. Let us peek into your soul. If you are bold, show it to some close friends. Does it ring true to them? If not, why not devote this year to becoming the person you want to be? And don’t forget to include your work.

Wally Kroeker, a former Christian Leader editor, edits The Marketplace, a magazine for Christians in business published by Mennonite Economic Development Associates. From Kroeker’s book God’s Week Has Seven Days. Copyright © 1998 by Herald Press, Harrisonburg, VA, 22802. Used by permission.

By Amy Stone

Phil and Sandra eloped last weekend. Carol needs help moving into her new home. Alyssa is celebrating her third cancer-free anniversary. Toby is depressed, bored and impulsive. How do I know? I read it on Facebook.

In early 2010 the church I attend began talking about using social networking media in ministry. We wondered about the spiritual and social value of online social networking. Does screen-mediated communication build genuine relationships? We were already utilizing e-mail and a Web site to present general information and announcements. Should we devote resources to yet another mode of online communication? How would our church’s presence on FB minister to the real needs of real people?

While affirming these important concerns, there was enough community interest to move forward and give FB a try. So, on May 1, 2010, our congregation officially debuted on FB, with this guiding principle: Any communication media is of value to our community when it deepens authentic face-to-face relationships and discipleship. Almost 18 months into our experiment, here is what we have learned.

FB reaches a significant portion of our congregation. When our church, College Community Church Mennonite Brethren, established a page for the organization (www.facebook.com/cccmb), many church members had already established personal FB profiles. It was easy to generate affiliation (aka, “likes”) with the official CCCMB page. The church, as a group of people, was present long before the church, as an institution, signed on.

Currently, our page is “liked” by about half as many individuals as attend worship on a typical Sunday morning. Fifty percent of page members are age 35 and above, and almost 25 percent are over age 55. Similarly, about 26 percent are age 13-24. These numbers reflect the age demographics of our congregation.

FB facilitates pastoral care. With or without the CCCMB page, FB provides genuine opportunities to provide pastoral care. While FB “status” updates are usually short and sometimes cryptic, they are invitations to conversation. When Toby writes, “Darkness wraps me like a wet wool blanket,” we reply with empathy and then follow up with a call. When Alyssa posts a photo of herself, blowing out three celebratory candles atop a stack of pancakes, we reply with joy and gratitude. In both cases, we are reminded to pray and to communicate that we care. The benefits of the medium have been most evident to us during times of deepest loss and public mourning.

FB nurtures our worldwide fellowship. In our mobile culture, we all have relationships that span the globe. Parents and grown children reside on opposite coasts. Former roommates live abroad. Careers and missions take us to unexpected locales. Over the years, our congregation has hosted many international exchange students. Meaningful long term relationships have been formed and in recent years, social media has made those ongoing connections easier to sustain and more visible to the wider community.

With or without an official CCCMB page, our members use social networking for fellowship and pastoral care. Nonetheless, having an official FB page is useful and even meaningful. The page gives our congregation a community voice in the FB context. Posts may be educational, promotional, formational and even recreational, but our aim is to always use the media to nurture caring, face-to-face relationships and discipleship to Jesus, IRL (in real life).

Amy Stone is the assistant pastor of congregational care at College Community Church Mennonite Brethren in Clovis, Calif., and a mother of five teenagers.

By Justin Salters

I have grown up logged into AIM, MySpace, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, Blogger, FourSquare and just about any other social network you can imagine. Maybe that’s why it seems natural and acceptable to share my thoughts, opinions and reflections to the world via the Internet. It also may explain why I believe social media empowers us as believers to do great things for the sake of God’s kingdom.

When the apostles and leaders of the early church communicated the gospel they wrote and sent letters via the roads, cities and ports built by the pagan Romans. Today we have more than roads and ports. Planes, trains and automobiles have taken us places we never thought possible and have mobilized the church. Social media is the next great technology that will allow for the quick and authentic spread of the gospel. Social media allows us to go places we never thought possible and to be salt and light to the world, all from the convenience of our iPhones.

I have recently become involved with People of the Second Chance (POTSC), a grassroots movement committed to radical grace in life and leadership. One of the ways I am involved with POTSC is through Grace Mob, a group of people committed to using our respective social media platforms expressly to advance the causes of grace and love.

Daily I hear stories of people for whom life has proven difficult—people struggling with disease, depression, loss of life and even with self-harm. Most of the people I interact with live hundreds, if not thousands, of miles from my home in Southern California. They go to churches I’ve never heard of, work at places I will never visit and for all intents and purposes live an anonymous life—except that they use social media to communicate their reality and share their hurt. Then I and the rest of our Grace Mob step in and flood Facebook walls, e-mail inboxes and Twitter feeds with messages of encouragement and affirmation. It is amazing what a message of God’s love and sovereign good does to help a hurting individual.

Social media has hugely impacted the platform I have and my ability to share the passion I have for grace, peace and justice. It is a tool enabling me to reach a worldwide audience with the message of Jesus Christ and his love for us. I am confident that it represents the same opportunity for you. All it takes is intentionality and a commitment to using the gifts and resources God has equipped you with to do the most good. How might you be able to jump on the Internet and be an ambassador of Christ? It’s time we take the Gospel to the uttermost parts of the Web.

Justin Salters is a political science student at CSU Bakersfield and worship leader for young adults at Bridge Bible Church, a MB congregation in Bakersfield, Calif. He has served as the social media coordinator for USMB. You can follow him on Twitter @justinsalters or read his blog at www.justinsalters.com. For more information about People of the Second Chance or Grace Mob visit www.potsc.com.

by Pam Peters-Pries

On a recent vacation I browsed through several copies of Martha Stewart’s Living magazine from the library. Each issue was a feast of gorgeous photographs and spectacular ideas. Martha’s magazines are seductive. As I flipped through them, I dreamt of my friends’ accolades as I placed perfectly plated and garnished meals before them, the reputation I would earn for being “the hostess with the mostest.”

But then there were the haunting, darker thoughts: What if the Layered Spring Omelet didn’t stack up as prettily as in the picture? Would people notice if I used plain old table salt instead of the coarse sea salt listed in the recipe?

Reading Martha’s magazine, you start to think it’s not simply welcoming friends into your home that matters. It’s the effort and expense you incur to host them, and the impression you make with very tricky recipes that really counts.

I found an antidote for my Martha-induced anxiety from Doris Janzen Longacre, author of the More-With-Less Cookbook. Could Doris have foreseen how Martha Stewart would influence us when she said, in her gracious and lucid introduction, that the North American tendency to “feast nonstop can dull our festive joy . . .. We require more and more trimming to turn any celebration into a meal distinguishable from our daily diet.”

Or when she said: “Serving guests becomes an ego trip, rather than a relaxed meeting of friends around that most common everyday experience of sharing food. Gathering around the table in fellowship turns into entertaining.”

Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia wouldn’t be the vast empire it is today if everyone heeded Doris’ timeless advice of 35 years ago: “Hold in clear perspective the reason for celebrating. Don’t expect food to be the total experience. More with less means affirming faith and relationships as the basis for celebrating, and letting food play a complementary role.”

If the world had a little more Doris Janzen Longacre and a little less Martha Stewart, we might all be enjoying our gatherings with friends a lot more with a lot less. The next time you’re fretting over those fussy garnishes and mismatched table settings, put that Martha Stewart magazine away and go back to your copy of More-With-Less.

Doris has some really, really good advice for you.

Pam Peters-Pries is a writer based in Blumenort, Man. This essay was first published in the April 2010 issue of Purpose, a monthly publication from Mennonite Publishing Network.

Now with more than 850,000 copies around the globe, Doris Janzen Longacre’s More-With-Less Cookbook, first published in 1976 by Herald Press, has become the favorite cookbook of many families. Full of recipes from hundreds of contributors, More-With-Less Cookbook offers suggestions “on how to eat better and consume less of the world's limited food resources.” Herald Press published a 25th anniversary edition in 2003. Longacre died of cancer in 1979 at the age of 39 before she could complete the original manuscript of her second book, Living More with Less. This second book was published in 1980 and a 30th anniversary edition was released in November 2010.

by Jan Woltmann

It hangs on a prominent wall in the hub of our home. Every so often our kids or our visitors stand in front of it and gaze awhile. No, it is not a gallery of pictures collected from family and friends. It is The Salt of the Earth: The Christian Seasons Calendar 2010/2011, published by the University Hill Congregation in Vancouver, B.C.

It wasn’t always the center of attention. When I first got it, I placed the calendar alongside my devotional material for personal use. But after a while, I decided we could all benefit from this subversive form of tracking time. So much to the chagrin of my husband, I put a nail in our maple wall cabinet to stake its place.

Unlike its popular counterpart, the Christian calendar exclusively tells the story of Jesus Christ—his life death, resurrection and ascension; its origins can be traced back to the festivals held in the early centuries of the church. The calendar begins in late November with Advent, followed by Christmas, the season of Epiphany (Christ made manifest), Lent, Holy Week, Easter and finally the Season After Pentecost. Interestingly, the 12 days of Christmas and the seven days of Holy Week earn their very own page on the calendar, indicating their significance. Each season tells the story of the Christian year through weekly Scripture readings, an explanation of liturgical color and provocative artwork.

So why is this form of marking time important? There are several reasons.

First, the calendar reminds me that I am part of a discipleship community that began long before I arrived on the scene and will continue long after I’m gone. In the short time I’m given, I take my place in the communion of saints that stretches over 2,000 years.

Second, I need to surround myself with visible and tangible reminders of the gospel story that define my life—it is a story I desire to know by heart. But this is no easy task, as there are other storylines that compete for my attention daily. The calendar orients my mind and heart to the Christ-narrative.

In their book, Resident Aliens, Stanley Hauerwas and William Willimon point to the significance of being trained by the salvation story: “Early Christians, interestingly, began not with creedal speculation about the metaphysics of the Incarnation…. They began with stories about Jesus, about those whose lives got caught up in his life. Therefore, in a more sophisticated and engaging way, by the very form of their presentation, the Gospel writers were able to begin training us to situate our lives like his life” (emphasis mine).

The Christian calendar keeps my life rooted in the life of Christ—training me to situate my life like his life. And isn’t this the prayer of us Mennonite Brethren—that our life together in the 21st century would increasingly reflect the life of Christ and his first followers? We need all the help we can get to embrace the fullness of this reality, and so the calendar will stay in its prominent place at the busy intersection of our home life, reminding us again and again of the storyline by which we live.

Jan Woltmann lives in Winnipeg, Man., and belongs to The Meeting Place MB faith community. She enjoys spending time with her husband and grown children and loves to read and write. She is a writer for the Canadian Conference of MB Churches. Her calendar reflections can be found on the Canadian conference Web site http://www.regenerate2101.ca/blog/?cat=48.

by Amy Walker

I am not a big fan of the Internet. I know, I know…call me crazy. There are wonderful advantages to being so connected: e-mailing to keep in touch, Skyping with my mom who happens to be 872 miles away and immediate information that comes in handy with a curious five-year-old—who knew pandas eat 84 pounds of bamboo each day. But I struggle with being a die-hard fan of something that keeps us so plugged in, so occupied, so connected—but not really. All. The. Time.

So I was skeptical, perhaps even aversive, when the idea came to me that our women’s small group should have a community blog (a shared online journal) during the 2010 season of Lent. How could a blog allow us to connect in deeper ways and lead us into a more meaningful experience of Lent? Was it even possible?

Yet, here was my hope: That the blog would create a space for our women's small group to journey through Lent together. A space to share what God was stirring in our hearts during the Lenten season: ordinary and extraordinary, simple and profound, beautiful and frustrating. Above all else, that it would point us toward the path of "knowing nothing except Jesus Christ…and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2).

And you know what? It did.

One of the things I love about blogs is the full spectrum of creativity. With blogs you can share photos, songs, paintings as well as words. I hoped we could be more creative in the way we experienced Christ during Lent and could share with one another those things that had stirred our hearts.

We posted pictures: flowers blooming amidst a cover of snow, eggs perfectly arranged in a nest and nails on a cross. We posted lyrics to songs: How Deep the Father’s Love for Us, There is a Fountain, Nothing but the Blood. More than that, we posted our lives and stories. Some wrote about being deeply moved by Christ’s sacrifice. Others wrote about feeling nothing but apathy and disconnect. Some shared the struggle to enter into Lent while wiping runny noses, changing diapers, fixing snacks and then turning around to fix dinner. Others shared of being broken by sin revealed in their lives as we delved deeper into the story of the cross.

More than anything, we shared our collective desire to know God more. To believe we are so passionately and individually loved by our Father that he sent his Son to die. And that we want desperately to live and love out of that truth and only that truth.

The last post was a picture of a beautiful painting that held these words: He’s alive! As Lent came to an end, we entered into a new season, Easter. And we all celebrated Easter together—singing, a little bit of dancing, a lot of hugging, laughing and rejoicing. The celebration was richer from knowing each other in deeper ways than when we started this journey.

And I suppose, through this experience, that I have modified my stance on the Internet a tiny bit. While there may be plenty of crazy, pseudo-connections happening all over the World Wide Web, there are real, Christ-centered connections happening too. And I am grateful I could be a part of it.

Amy Walker leads a women's small group at Trailhead Church, a Mennonite Brethren church plant in Centennial, Colo.

During Lent, Trailhead Church, Centennial, Colo., encourages all attendees to work through the same devotional, Contemplating the Cross, by Tricia McCary Rhodes. Worship pastor Anne Griffin says this 40-day guide “allows people to really dig deep into the story of the crucifixion and has great ideas for responding through prayer and journaling.” The shared experience encourages discussion in the congregation.

Contemplating the Cross is out of print, but can sometimes be found at Amazon.com and is available electronically during Lent at www.soulatrest.com.

For readers interested in observing Lent this year, March 9 marks the beginning of the season.

Evaluating Web site sources an important habit to cultivate

by Robin Deich Ottoson

We are awash in electronic information, and it is not easy to make sense of what comes our way. Researchers tell us that more than 294 billion emails will be transmitted in 2010 (The Radicati Group), that nearly five billion text messages per day were sent in the latter half of 2009 (CTIA-The Wireless Association) and that at a minimum Google tracks more than 10,000 searches per second. This does not even begin to count the Web 2.0 numbers for Facebook, Twitter or GoogleBuzz. Facebook alone reports that people spend more than 700 billion minutes per month on the site.

We librarians are big on evaluating information, discovering what is valid and advocating values like credibility, accuracy, authority, objectivity and currency, all of which are elements necessary to critical thinking and discernment. This concern extends to all web-based transmissions that communicate with large numbers of people in a short period of time, from mass e-mails to Web sites.

Consider some websites that illustrate how important taking the time to evaluate sources and facts really is.

• www.dhmo.org warns consumers about a deadly health threat caused by dihydrogen monoxide (DHMO). Sponsored by “The United States Environment Assessment Agency,” the pages apprise readers that DHMO “corrodes metal,” “is a major part of acid rain,” and is an industry solvent that “kills thousands every year.” The site links to conservation and watchdog groups and lets visitors e-mail members of Congress. But the fuss is over nothing more than water, good old H2O.

• RYT Hospital (www.rythospital.com) purports to be at the forefront of nanotechnology design, gene therapy, molecular modeling and animal intelligence. It boasts links to “Clyven, the first transgenetic mouse with human intelligence,” a chance to chat with Clyven online and discussion on research conducted at RYT on male pregnancy. The site won an INVISION New Media Award for digital creativity. But it is, for all its artistic execution, simply a virtual research hospital, a figment of imagination and an exercise in digital acrobatics.

Christians have a precious gift in their hands: a life given back to them by the saving work of Jesus Christ. This gift is for the individual and for the community and both are called to exercise an examining eye. Like the Bereans of Acts 17, discerning Christians take what they hear and verify it with the facts. They guard their hearts and minds from believing whatever they encounter or what someone intentionally puts in their way.

How can this same care be applied to the Internet, this sea of information that most of us choose to sail? There are Web sites like Snopes (www.snopes.com), the granddaddy of fact-checkers; About Urban Legends (http://urbanlegends.about.com); and Break The Chain.org, specializing in chain spam email. Someone using Snopes, for example, would catch the DHMO and RYT hoaxes, as well as bogus claims about political and religious figures.

Stopping to examine Web sites, e-mail messages and social networking sites is a habit to cultivate, whether we discover them or someone sends them to us “as true.” As we walk through life, we have a responsibility to others and to ourselves to practice the same discernment with electronic information that we would exact on other claims for truth.

Robin Deich Ottoson is associate professor and director of library services at Tabor College, the Mennonite Brethren college headquartered in Hillsboro, Kan.

By Joe L. Brown

“It’s a rental,” I thought after seeing a preview of To Save A Life with other youth workers. But then a pastor shared at our youth network meeting how the movie resonated with his students and how they experienced growth and transformation because of it. So I jumped in and bought the basic package, which includes lots of good material for promotion and planning.

The movie description reads: “Jake and Roger grew up as best friends. But in high school, Jake becomes a star athlete who has it all: a college scholarship and the perfect girl, an ideal life that comes at the exclusion of his childhood friend. Meanwhile, Roger no longer fits in anywhere and becomes tired of always being pushed aside. He makes a tragic move that spins Jake’s world out of control. As Jake searches for answers, he begins a journey that will change his life forever.”

This narrative barely scratches the surface. The movie boldly reveals a raw slice of high school life. It touches on a host of issues: suicide, cutting, drugs, alcohol, premarital sex, teen pregnancy, gossip, hypocrisy in the church, peer pressure, wild parties, depression, divorce and swearing, just to name a few. Too many issues and too little time. Parents and other youth workers were mildly impressed, but our teenagers thought it was fantastic!

We showed the movie to parents a week before their students saw it and parents loved that. Christine, mother of a freshman girl, was concerned: “I don’t want my daughter thinking everything will work out fine if she gets pregnant.” Tim, with a sophomore son, didn’t think that would be a problem: “There were real and life-changing consequences.” Susan, a parent of three girls, said, “A key part of the movie was how Christians were not portrayed as perfect; hypocrisy in the church was evident. But God touched Jake and helped him try to do the right things, despite the mixed message.” One dad wept as he watched Roger being rejected by his peers. Another mom said, “We should be more attentive to the person who is the outcast…. As Christians, there should be no outcasts in our community.”

Students eagerly praised the film. “It was great, not at all cheesy,” said Andre, 19, who plans to be more careful with his behavior, realizing that younger people are looking up to him. Josiah, 17, related situations in the movie to his life: “I guess I’ve got to do what’s right, no matter what others may do.” Laura, 14, thought we should watch it again… immediately!

The movie provides a bridge to issues that can be somewhat awkward. Our youth group seems more open to discussing difficult issues. We’re not as afraid to bring up sensitive topics or to offer help to friends that are hurting. Students have also expressed a desire to reach out to their peers. Plans are underway to show it again in the fall, with a greater effort to invite not only friends, but those who seemingly have no friends.

Its author, Jim Britts, says To Save a Life is not a Christian movie. But I have to admit it’s the best movie I’ve seen on following Jesus.

Joe L. Brown is the “youth guy” at Heritage Bible Church, Bakersfield, Calif.