Reinhold Niebuhr wrote: Original Sin is “the only empirically verifiable doctrine of the Christian faith.” It’s obvious everywhere. It’s not just that we commit sinful acts but that we’re sinful by nature. If you doubt that, have children. I have a robust view of my own sin as we all should. As my momma always said, we’re “messes.” Some call this having a “low anthropology” (expecting that none of us will always behave well). That’s why God’s grace is so obviously and completely necessary. As the Collect for the 3rd Sunday of Lent reminds us: “we have no power in ourselves to help ourselves.” God’s grace showered upon us is the only power that can make us right and whole before God.

That being said, we all should have reasonable expectations that in our relationships and in society we’ll at least try to act in ways that exhibit honesty, decency, and respect for others. Laws help. They create boundaries for what’s acceptable behavior and what’s not. Whether it’s hurting another person or running a red light in our cars, laws dissuade us from behaving poorly or endangering others. Laws have their place. Even hardened thieves don’t want other people to steal their stuff.

But laws have their limits. They can’t engender mercy, forbearance, or compassion. Laws can’t mandate love for others or require us to think first, not of our own needs, but those of others. Laws can’t oblige us to be kind to others, treat them with dignity, or show them basic decency. Such a stance in life comes from a different place other than the law. And we get to that place by being molded and shaped by something outside ourselves. Our parents, teachers, and mentors hopefully showed us a kind of life worth living that’s grounded in God’s love incarnated in the person of Jesus Christ.

All of which causes me to ask: who were the parents, teachers, and mentors of those angry men who assaulted a young woman earlier this week at Valdosta State University at Donald Trump’s rally? Did they raise and teach their boys to treat another human being that way? As adults, do those men actually believe that such behavior is in any way decent? And if those men are Christians, and I assume some of them self-identify as such, can they be anything other than ashamed? Do they have no shame?

I don’t blame Donald Trump for those men’s behavior just as I would never blame him for my own sin. I have to own my own sin as we all do. Trump is merely unleashing a coarseness and ugliness that’s hiding in all of us, if we’re honest enough to admit it. Trump is tapping into our collective id and giving that id license to go unchecked. That’s why it’s so important that we surround ourselves with people who will help us be better than we’d be otherwise left to our own sinful devices, people that’ll help us love our enemies, be merciful, and live compassionately with others.

We can never, this side of heaven, lose our sinfulness. We can, however, surround ourselves with people who will show us the virtues of God’s Kingdom and then lovingly hold us accountable to those virtues. At the very least, that’s one of the things the church ought to be about. With whom are we keeping company this Lent?

+Scott

 

Lent and the Agnostic (eCrozier #290)

What do you think agnostics think of our Lenten practices? They see our “Ashes-to-Go” set up on street corners. They hear of our fasting or “giving things up for Lent.” What do you think they make of it? They may well scratch their heads and just think we’re the strangest people on earth. “What” we do during Lent and “how” we go about doing it doesn’t make much sense to them. That’s because most of what they hear and see from us is the “what” and the “how” of Lent and not the “why” undergirding it. If we don’t address with them the “why,” then we don’t have much chance of engaging them with the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Yet, much of the church remains stuck on the “what” and the “how” of faith. We rarely ever approach the “why,” which has to do with our baptismal identity (forgiven sinners who have died in Christ) and purpose (redeemed sinners sent by Christ into the world). My hunch is that’s true because it’s less risky. We’re more comfortable staying with the mechanics of the season of Lent and its ascetical practices. Don’t get me wrong, those are important practices that nurture our Christian faith. But they remain confined to “what” we do and “how” we do it. They “work” for us because we in the church assume in such practices the “why” that underpins them. Yet, no one I’ve ever known has been moved to a new spiritual place by only addressing the “what” and the “how” of their lives. Those sorts of questions appeal primarily to our cerebral cortex, the rational part of our brains. The “why” question, however, addresses the limbic part of our brain. That’s the part that appeals to our human need and desire for identity and purpose. For a fuller exploration of this line of thinking, see Simon Sinek’s Ted Talk at https://www.ted.com/talks/simon_sinek_how_great_leaders_inspire_action.

My son Charley operates a small pet services business in Washington, D.C. that among other things will walk your dog for you because you are too busy to do so yourself. His business is growing. That’s not because the service he provides isn’t also provided by others. There are plenty of others offering such services. Also, it’s not because he and his employees necessarily provide better service than other similar businesses. In other words, the “what” and the “how” of his business isn’t really that much different than what others provide. The reason his business is thriving is that everything they do proclaims: “We really love dogs!” He’s in the business not merely because he walks dogs (the what) or because he walks dogs really well (the how), but because he loves dogs (the why). That appeals to his clients who also love their dogs. His clients want to be part of a business that loves dogs as much as they do. He focuses on the “why” and then the “what” and the “how.”

I’m not opposed to doing things like “Ashes-to-Go” or similar efforts to connect the Christian faith to where people are, especially if they provide us an opportunity to get to the “why” of people’s lives. But I’m skeptical such efforts do. I think they just make us feel better about ourselves, that we’re really reaching folk on the level of their identity in life and their purpose in the world. What needs to happen is this: We need to engage folk deeply on the “why” of their lives. We need to listen to their life stories, their hopes and fears, and then to talk with them about Jesus because he answers their “why” question of identity and purpose directly.

+Scott

 

While repentance is a year-round, daily practice for all disciples of Jesus, we’re aided by the Lenten season when we particularly focus on this practice. Repentance isn’t about being sorry for our sins, although personal sorrow is probably an appropriate emotion we experience while repenting. Repenting isn’t a feeling or an idea. Repentance is an action where we intentionally seek to change our understanding of ourselves in relationship to God, and consequently, the way we live in the world. The Greek word for repentance in the Bible, metanoia, literally means: “to change our understanding.”

A story that instructs me in my repentance is the story of a rather obscure saint of the Church. Her name was St Mary of Egypt. In her early life, Mary was a prostitute in Alexandria, Egypt. One day, she went to exercise her profession down at the boat docks and there saw two groups of men. One was a group she knew well, a group of sailors. The other group was a group of Christians heading for Jerusalem on a pilgrimage. Without thinking, she decided to go with the pilgrims to Jerusalem. Her life story even reports that she exercised her profession among, shall we say, the less mature pilgrims on the boat trip to Jerusalem.

When they arrived in Jerusalem she had a profound experience. She went with the pilgrims to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, which is the Church built on the place of Jesus’ crucifixion. She saw the pilgrims enter the Church and she tried to enter with them. But when she tried to enter, she couldn’t. A force she couldn’t see was keeping her out. She tried again to enter, but to no avail. She left the Church’s entrance and ran into the city. She spent the day repenting of all that she had done throughout her life that had obstructed her relationship with God. The next day she entered the Church. She left a changed person. She had changed her understanding of herself, of God, and of her life in the world.

She spent the rest of her life, over 40 years, in the desert south of Jerusalem. There she lived in prayer and praise of God. We’d know nothing of her life, if it hadn’t been for a monk, Abba Zosimas, who accidentally came upon her, a naked old woman, in the desert when he went there for solitary prayer. At their meeting, she told him her life story. But before she did, this is what she said to him: “I am ashamed, Abba, to speak to you of my disgraceful life, forgive me for God’s sake! But when I start my story you will run from me, as from a snake, for your ears will not be able to bear the vileness of my actions. But I shall tell you all without hiding anything, only imploring you first of all to pray incessantly for me, so that I may find mercy on the day of Judgment.”

Notice the honesty and humility of her words. Not present are the arrogant and entitled words that we so often hear today. Her words do not presume a sense of deserving anything, yet they are filled with the hope of God’s love. St Mary of Egypt saw herself clearly and changed her understanding. She repented. Her life story invites us to do the same, trusting that when we do, God will not run from us, “as from a snake,” but rather that God’s mercy will envelop us “on the day of Judgment.”

+Scott

 

During these days (of Lent), therefore, let us add something to the usual measure of our service, such as private prayers and abstinence from food and drink, that each one, of his own free will and with the joy of the Holy Spirit, may offer God something over and above the measure appointed for him. That is to say, let him deny himself some food, drink, sleep, pointless conversation and banter, and look forward to Easter with joy and spiritual longing. Rule of St Benedict 49

Part of a traditional Lenten discipline is to deny ourselves something we usually enjoy during the rest of the year. It’s one way for us to remember gratefully the “great denial” Jesus made on our behalf; for he denied himself and took up the cross for our sake. Benedict’s admonition from his Rule reminds us that we shouldn’t do this out of obligation, but out of our “joy and spiritual longingfor Easter. So, we don’t engage in self-denial to prove anything to our self or to others. We don’t do so to impress God or others. And we certainly don’t do so for the purpose of self-justification, which is always a dangerous path to travel. Benedict reminds us there’s a telos to this Lenten discipline and it is joy, the root of that word being, God (“to enjoy” is literally to be “in God”).

I don’t know about you, but I find it easier to deny myself some things more than others. While I enjoy good food and drink, I don’t miss it much when I don’t have it. I’m pretty pedestrian in my tastes and my palate is hardly that of a gourmand. So, for me to give up chocolate or single malt scotch (of which I’m unworthy anyway) or some other delicacy may appear like an act of self-denial to some, but to me, since I could take it or leave it, it’s hardly what Benedict had in mind. When we make such non-denial denials, it’s for the sake of appearances to others and not for a true Lenten discipline.

But, “pointless conversation and banter” hits me closer to the bone. Denying myself that is much harder. Thus, it’s a more needed act of denial on my part. Maybe more than any other vocation in the Church, a bishop regularly engages in “pointless conversation and banter” whether he or she desires to or not. That’s not to say with we don’t participate in “pointed conversation. Of course we do, hopefully more often than not. But the temptation to deflect or to ignore or to trivialize rather than to get to the heart and truth of the matter is always there. Like with many temptations, such behaviors are a way to run away from one’s true self and the vocation to which I’m called.

Lent then can serve as an invitation for us to get back to the heart and truth of the matter in our lives; to recognize how we might be too serious about the trivial banter in our lives and not be taking seriously enough the people, things, and circumstances of our lives that matter. This is what Benedict meant by stability in the three-fold promise Benedictine monk’s make; that capacity to hang in there when the temptation is to run away from what’s difficult, or to deflect the issue by “pointless conversation,” or to trivialize ourselves or others. Such self-awareness comes as a gift even though it’s often hard to receive. Yet, if we accept the gift for what it is, then we enter into a place where the ground is holy and where we open ourselves daily to the thrust of grace.

+Scott

 

Lent, the Lone Ranger, & Tonto (eCrozier #251)

Growing up I enjoyed watching Looney Tunes, cartoons that had many levels of interpretation. One of the recurring bits the cartoons used was this: a protagonist is faced with a dilemma and he doesn’t know what’s the right thing to do. As he struggles with his choice, a little angel pops up on one shoulder and a little devil pops up on the other. They both try to persuade him. “Do it,” one urges. “Don’t do it,” the other replies. It goes back and forth until the poor protagonist’s head begins to spin rapidly 360 degrees. I also remember Flip Wilson’s TV show where he played a recurring character named Geraldine. Whenever Geraldine did something naughty she’d shout: “the devil made me do it.” It was never Geraldine’s fault. She never had to take responsibility for her own actions. She was always free from guilt. After all, the devil made her do it.

Both of these elements of pop culture give us a distorted view because both treat our agency like we’re toddlers who are incapable of taking responsibility for the choices we make. It’s the evil out there somewhere that’s the real problem. In this view, left to our own devices, we’d always choose the good. With such a presumption, we can absolve ourselves all the while perceiving a world where some people are evil and some are good; and where we group ourselves in with the latter. In such a worldview, there’s no room for self-examination and repentance because evil exists apart from us. But our Christian teaching on sin tells us that’s not right. The capacity to sin and to choose evil is inside each of us. There’s some part of us that is “fallen” like Adam and Eve; that rebels against living under God’s gracious rule. As we seek to follow Jesus, we know full well that we’re still active participants in a rebellion to God’s gracious rule.

We begin Lent this week hearing of Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness. We can misinterpret this story seeing Jesus inhabiting the role of a Spiritual Lone Ranger battling against temptation. But that’s not what the story says. The Gospel tells us “angels waited on him.” He didn’t go it alone. Occasionally, I’ve gone it alone in the wilderness, even thinking that the wilderness is a safe and attractive place to be alone. But I’m a fool to think that. The Biblical meaning of wilderness isn’t some desert oasis like Palm Springs. No, the Gospel word for wilderness means “a place of terror, a place that destroys.” So, I’m a fool to try it alone. Alone, as a sinner, I’ll consciously or subconsciously opt for death for the wilderness is quite a harsh place.

This is why the Season of Lent is a gift to each of us. Lent helps us recognize the truth about ourselves. Lent helps us name the wilderness in which we live. And in that wilderness, we know that we will struggle to be faithful to God’s call. Yet, the cross that’s placed on our foreheads at our baptisms reminds us of Jesus on whose grace we can always rely. Also at our baptisms, angels surrounded us. Some we could see and some we couldn’t see. And angels still surround us. Many of them are our fellow disciples who are on life’s pilgrimage with us. Count on them and let them count on you.

So, don’t go it alone. Sin is too powerful inside of us. Even The Lone Ranger had TontoWho will be your Tonto this Lent?

+Scott

 

Silence as Soul Food (eCrozier #168)

The ego gets what it wants with words. The soul gets what it needs with silence.

– Richard Rohr

Talk, talk, talk, talk, ‘til you lose your patience

– Bruce Springsteen

There are times when silence is not called for. Silence when we see injustice; silence when we witness another person being abused; silence when a word of comfort or hope is needed. These are not occasions for silence. But there are so many other times when silence is exactly what we need. Silence gives us the chance to engage our brain before words come out of our mouths. It allows for the opportunity to listen to another person instead of interrupting them. Silence can thus keep us out of a whole lot of trouble.

This is particularly true in our prayer life. Because we are a people who love our Book of Common Prayer, we may mistakenly believe that all of our prayer life needs to be filled with words, and not just words, but the right words coming from the Book of Common Prayer. As much as I find indispensable the structure of our prayers in The Daily Office, I also know the need I have to just be quiet; to allow silence to engulf me. With all due respect to collard greens, silence is the best soul food for me.

The problem is: we are so accustomed to noise. The noise of the world becomes the norm. Sometimes I have trouble sleeping when I am on the road because it is often so quiet where I stay. I am used to living where there are shouting voices, car horns, and loud train whistles to rock me to sleep. I am used to the noise. It is my norm. Yet, it is in the silence where I am confronted with myself free of distraction and absent excuses. It is in the silence where God can get a word in edge wise. The noise of our lives distracts us. It allows us to avoid addressing the deeper issues of our lives that silence affords.

Some people do not welcome silence, in fact, they may well be afraid of it because of its capacity to confront. There are those who cannot fall asleep without the radio on or music playing. Others keep the television on in their homes even though they are not watching anything on it. It is a noisy, electronic companion. There was a CD released a few years back called Lonely No More. The CD, as I understand it, was intended for the user to play while being at home alone. The CD has tracks of the sound of a shower running, the sound of groceries being put away in kitchen cabinets, and the sound of a vacuum cleaner running.

If silence is not a regular part of your life, I encourage you make it a part of the rest of your Lenten discipline, sort of a test drive for the rest of your life. But please know you are playing with fire if you do. You may come to some epiphanies about yourself in the silence. In the silence, you may discover parts of your life that will call forth, even demand, repentance from you. Silence is exercise for the soul. We may not always like it, but it is crucial for the health of our soul.

+Scott

 

There is a scene in the film, The Great Santini, that has always had a powerful Lenten message for me. The film based on the book by Pat Conroy tells the story of a Marine pilot and his wife, his teenaged son, his pre-adolescent daughter, and his early elementary-aged son. The family is used to moving every few years as a part of normal military life. In the film story, they find themselves living in an old house in Beaufort, South Carolina with the father stationed at the nearby Marine airbase.

The father is clearly damaged goods. He has a tough time expressing his emotions maturely and relating lovingly to his wife and children. He treats his children the way he treats his subordinates. One night he comes home drunk from an evening with his fellow officers and is in a foul mood. When he enters the family kitchen, he gets into an argument with his teenaged son and when he wife intervenes, he slaps her. This causes his older son to come to his mother’s defense by striking his father with his fist. So, the father begins to pummel his son with his own fists. As he is doing so, his young daughter jumps on his back with her arms tight around his neck, yelling: “no Daddy, no!” The younger son wraps his entire body around one of his father’s legs trying to prevent him from stepping forward into the punches he is throwing at his older son. The younger son just offers a whimpering cry with his eyes shut tightly.

Then, off in the distance, there is the sound of a loud train whistle blowing. The father freezes. The train whistle, it seems, serves like Santus bells in the church calling him to attention and to the awareness of what he was doing. As the train whistle continues to blow, he drops his fists, and he goes limp. His daughter slides off his back, his younger son disentangles himself from his leg, and his older son gets up off floor. Not another word is spoken that night and the father leaves the kitchen.

Lent is that train whistle, those Sanctus bells, for me. Entering into my prayers in Lent and to the disciplines of the season, I am confronted by myself. I am shaken awake by the Holy Spirit from the spiritual lethargy in which I find myself. And I come to a greater self-awareness about who I am and what I continue to become as a creation of God. This is profoundly important personal work for me, and I believe, for all of us.

What are your train whistles or Sanctus bells catching your attention this Lent? How are you being shaken by the Holy Spirit? What greater self-awareness are you experiencing? Our answers to such questions should not be dismissed, devalued, or ignored, for as we go deeper into the truth about ourselves we receive a spiritual gift from God: the invitation to a spiritual maturity based on that deepest truth about ourselves. Such a truthful admission and recognition opens for us the vastness of God’s grace and mercy. And when we arrive at Holy Week, we will not see the events there as the unjust and tragic death of a good man at the hands of evil people. No, we will see there on the Cross of Christ, our Savior and Lord.

+Scott

 

The Devil Made Me Do It (eCrozier #124)

Lent begins in Mark’s Gospel in the wilderness where Jesus is in a struggle between God’s Spirit that leads to life and the power of evil that leads to death. In that struggle, wild beasts and angels surround him. He’s in the middle of what would devour and destroy him and what would bring him light and life. This is our struggle, too. And it’s tempting for us to see the struggle as outside ourselves, believing that good or evil are waiting to step into the void.

In the 1970s, Flip Wilson had a TV show where he played a character named Geraldine. When Geraldine did something naughty she’d shout: “the devil made me do it.” It was never her fault. She was always innocent. After all, the Devil made her do it. But this distorts our view. It treats our agency as if we’re no more than toddlers incapable of taking responsibility for our actions. Since the evil is outside us, we would always choose the good if we were left alone to choose.

This is actually an old heresy called Manichaeism, named for its founder Manichaeus, a 3rd Century A.D. Persian mystic. It holds that there’s a cosmic struggle between good and evil where God and Satan battle for our devotion. Our calling is to resist the forces of darkness and become enlightened by the Spirit of God. If this sounds familiar, it’s because many faithful people have adopted this Manichaen heresy to some extent. This heresy presumes the evil we face exists only outside ourselves. With such a presumption, we conveniently paint a good and evil picture of the world where some are evil and some are good; and where we usually place ourselves among the good. In such a worldview, there’s no room for self-examination and repentance because evil exists apart from us. We’re just victims of evil forces. Put simply, the Devil made us do it.

Of course, such a struggle between good and evil does take place, but it’s inside each of us. This is what the Church has taught for 2000 years. We’re all mixed bags. We’re capable of great acts of goodness as well as acts that we must call sin. Are we born that way? Or do we learn both the good and the evil? There is Bibli­cal and psychological evidence on both sides. Is it nurture or nature that forms us?

The Church comes down squarely in the middle of this debate. We emphasize the discipleship process because we know that the way one becomes a disciple of Jesus is by learning from others what that looks like. But we also hold the belief in what’s called original sin. Our human nature is “fallen” like Adam and Eve. We rebel against living under God’s gracious rule. So we follow Jesus know­ing full well that we’re rebels under God’s rule. The way to live faithfully, as the mixed bags we are, is to discipline our lives in such ways that we learn to live Good News.

This is why the Season of Lent is such a gift to us. This season helps us recognize the truth about ourselves. It helps us name the wilderness in which we live. Sometimes, I think the wilderness is a safe, attractive place to be. But I’m a fool to think that. The Biblical understanding of the wilderness isn’t some desert oasis like Palm Springs. Rather, the Gospel word for wilderness means “a place of terror, a place that destroys.” Alone I’ll more often than not consciously or subconsciously opt for death – for the wilderness is a harsh place and I’ll end up losing the struggle. But our baptism in God’s grace gives us real hope in the struggle because our baptism grafts us on to the Body of Christ. It’s impossible to be alone after baptism. Jesus didn’t go it alone in the wilderness. He had the ministry of angels. We, too, have angels around us on all sides. Some we can’t see, but most we can. They’re our sisters and brothers in Christ.

+Scott

 

eCrozier #80

Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them;
for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.

Matthew 6:1

The poet Langston Hughes, in his poem “Litany,” urges his readers to “Gather up/In the arms of your love/Those who expect/no love from above.” Hughes lists in his litany the kinds of people who hope for nothing, summing up with the words: “All the scum of our weary city.” His poem suggests some personal questions. What do we really expect from God? What do we expect out of life in general? Does God owe us anything? What is life’s reward for us?

Beginning with our own expectations offers us a window to see the mission and vision of Jesus. He addressed those who were looking for and expecting a savior. These people had waited 500 years for a savior and in that time developed religious practices such as: prayer, fasting, and giving alms. These were the ways that they made manifest God’s presence in their lives. It was done rigorously, so that others, especially their children, might learn by their example and understand how God was present in their lives.

But when Jesus speaks, he says: Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them. He might just as well have said: Be on guard against performing and posing. You must realize that expressing God’s presence in your life and in the world about you is a holy discipline. So, when you perform piety and pose with trumpets sounding, you should know that you have already received your reward. Fasting and praying and giving alms are best done in secret, where such faith receives heavenly applause.

What do we expect? Remember Jesus came to redeem sinners, to bind up the broken-hearted, and to set the captives free. When Jesus came, he made God’s love specific and concrete and real flesh. He came to gather up into his arms of mercy all those who were sick, desperate, and tired. In Langston Hughes’s words: “All the scum of the city.” He came to gather up in his arms of mercy all those who expect “no love from above.” What do we expect? Are we some of the lost of “the city” that Jesus has come to collect? Or do we see ourselves as better than that? What do we expect of God and our lives as we begin our Lenten discipline?

We have also felt ourselves to be a chosen people just like the people Jesus addressed in the Gospel. Yet, in Lent we’re called back, warned, and reminded that our faith doesn’t depend on our outward performance of piety. We’re called back and warned that our identity as “chosen” depends on our faith in God’s grace and mercy and not on our outward performance. We’re called back, warned, and reminded in Lent that Jesus is the one who gathers up those who expect “no love from above.”

During our forty-day journey we will in fact discover that we have been chosen. But not chosen so we can feel smug and self-satisfied. Chosen rather for a particular purpose: So we can be sent out to bring into God’s Kingdom all those who right now have come to expect “no love from above.” What else could we expect from a God who dies for the sins of the whole world?

+Scott

 

eCrozier #51

I want to let you know about a DVD that Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove and Lauren Winner have produced. Jonathan is an acquaintance of mine from Durham, North Carolina who is one of the leaders of the New Monasticism movement. Lauren is a friend who is a professor at Duke Divinity School. Both are in their 30s and speak powerfully to young adults about the richness of classic Christianity. Their DVD is a five-session introduction to the classics of our early Christian mothers and fathers. You can order it here. It would make a great Lenten study.

http://www.paracletepress.com/discovering-christian-classics-5-sessions-in-the-ancient-faith-of-our-future.html

There’s a YouTube piece on it at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZ_EpGUAu50

Lauren & Jonathan introduce viewers to these ancient witnesses that transcend time and have shaped the faith of thousands. For example, I remember reading Antony of Egypt for the first time as a seminarian. In Antony, I found a spiritual guide who took Scripture seriously and demanded I do as well. And even though cultures, continents, and centuries separate us, he has been a consistent catechist of my faith. St Antony always demanded that Christianity was not only a way of belief. He lived Christianity as a way of life. Christianity is something one does and not merely what one believes. In that sense, Christianity is more verb than noun.

And speaking of doing, check this out

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-10993749

The Reverend Zoltan Lendvai, a Roman priest from Hungary, reaches young people with the Gospel by skateboarding with them (the pictures of Fr Lendavi on his skateboard wearing a Cassock are worth going to the link). Now I am not suggesting any of our clergy take up this particular evangelistic strategy (our health insurance rates are high enough as is), but going where the people are and connecting the Gospel of Jesus with their lives as they are has to be at the heart of any strategy we employ. So, figure out something a bit less bone-crushing and then do it. Get out there. There is a world of people waiting to hear the truth that there is a God who loves them more than they could ever imagine. And the best way for them to hear that truth is for us to show them it is true.

+Scott