Gus Hustad Coming Through Customs

In PaP Airport

Connecting with Paul Raymond

Going through customs, but we just met Paul so our 27-person team is complete!

Craig Moore and Carrie Rush Getting Off Plane

Carrie now has the chocolate bag!

Just Landed in Port-au-Prince

Everyone is well, just a little tired. But we're here!

Uno Game

Awaiting flight to PaP

Vanloads to Airport

2 Vanloads have gone to airport, 1 left, 8 of us still at holiday inn; such is travel with 26 people. Please pray for us today as we're operating on about 3 hours of sleep.

Thanks!

Up Early with Chocolate at 4:30am

Keith Miller has his hand in a bag of chocolate very early in the morning. Dan Sayer has been carrying the 3 lb 8oz bag since Omaha; thanks to a team effort it's down to about 1 lb. which is a good thing since chocolate tends to melt in Haiti :-).

Just Landed in FLL

We're in Ft. Lauderdale and will have a short night here before heading out to Port-au-Prince tomorrow morning on a 7:05am flight and into Port by 9am. Everyone's doing well!

Just Landed in Dallas

Have a short layover in DFW before flying out to Ft. Lauderdale where we will be tonight. So far everything has gone very well! Thanks for your prayers!

Happy for Husker Win

Going to Haiti but this doesn't keep our team from taking over the airport bar and watching Huskers!

Hanging Out in Airport

Jami Pickering, Jesse Anderson, Craig Moore and Dan Sayer

In Line at Omaha Airport

Brett Martin, Jane Vander Broek, Carla Pisel-Nixon and Christine Schuele

27, not 28

Alright, just so I'm straight on this, our team is 27 members, not 28 and we are picking up one guy in Florida, so 26 of us are traveling from Nebraska to Florida.  Seemingly small details, until you get to Haiti searching for that mysterious seemingly-missing 28th member!

Getting Ready

Our 28-person Haiti team meets at Grace Chapel 11:30am tomorrow morning.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Another Picture Test

Re-try Picture Test

Haiti Blackberry Test

So I leave for Haiti this Saturday and plan to blog on my Blackberry during the week. So this is my test e-mail from bb to blog.

Mike
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®

Blissful Ignorance of Structural Evil

"Sin has compromised our shalom, as evidenced by the rampant injustice, anguish, greed, and sorrow that permeates our world. Many of these problems are bigger than merely private sins. Sometimes theologians speak about 'structural sin,' that is, sin that affects whole institutions and communities. For example, certain economic arrangements promote unjustified wealth for one group at the expense of another; this appears 'reasonable' to those it benefits. Unfortunately, it is normally the global poor or those without a voice who suffer most under such arrangements. 'Personal evil can be simultaneously strengthened and disguised by social relationships.' When everyone around us believes and lives as we do, we may be blind to our participation in (or suffering under) structural sin, but it is real nonetheless.

We often live in blissful ignorance or denial of such structures. Ron Sider's assessment appears accurate:

Christians frequently restrict ethics to a narrow class of ‘personal’ sins. In a study of over fifteen hundred ministers, researchers discovered that theologically conservative pastors spoke out on sins such as drug abuse and sexual misconduct, but failed to preach about the sins of institutionalized racism and unjust economic structures that destroy just as many people…. In the twentieth century, evangelicals have become imbalanced in their stand against sin, expressing concern and moral outrage about individual sinful acts while ignoring, perhaps even participating in, evil social structures. But the Bible condemns both. Rich Christians in an Age of Hunger: Moving from Affluence to Generosity, p. 108.

Even if we do not directly participate in such structural sins, they nevertheless affect the world in which we live, and therefore we may not ignore it.

There is, perhaps, no more graphic example of structural sin and the bondage it promotes within human society than outright slavery itself. Not only is human slavery an evil of the past, it haunts our present as well. In fact, according to the U.S. Department of State, human trafficking is the third largest criminal enterprise in the world. Sex trafficking in particular has become a booming global industry that enslaves thousands of women and children every year" (God So Loved, He Gave: Entering the Movement of Divine Generosity, pp. 38-9).

The Lord's Things

"Recently I heard a very pious man say, 'I don't mean to suggest that it is wrong to pay attention to some of these social issues- but I do wish we would spend more time talking about he things of the Lord!' There was no need to attack his fundamental premise. Of course it is of the utmost importance that we talk about the things of the Lord. But the important question is this: What are the Lord's 'things'? Doesn't Jesus agonize over attacks on the dignity of those persons for whom he spilled his blood? Doesn't he grieve over men and women who have been imprisoned because they witnessed for justice and righteousness? Isn't the Son of God angered by the oppression of widows and orphans, and by the schemes of those who plot the destruction of all that the Creator has called 'good'? If so, then many so-called 'social issues' are 'the things of the Lord'" (When the Kings Come Marching In, p. 123).

The Dangers of the Pronoun "I"

"The dangers arise when this element is emphasized to the exclusion of other important dimensions of the work of the Lamb. Jesus died to save sinners - but he is also the Lamb who serves as the lamp in the transformed City. As the Lamb of God he will draw all the goods, artifacts and instruments of culture to himself; the kings of the earth will return their authority and power to the Lamb who sits upon the throne; Jesus is the one whose blood has purchased a multi-national community, composed of people from every tribe and tongue and nation. His redemptive ministry, as the ministry of the Lamb, is cosmic in scope.

Similar matters must be stressed for the sake of those who want a culturally 'relevant' Christianity that is not based on the solid foundation of a full biblical Christology. Here too, of course, we must concede many of the basic concerns at work in this pattern of thinking. Jesus came to rescue a creation that was pervasively infected by the curse of sin- an infection not limited to the psychic territory populated by 'human hearts.' The curse of sin touches the natural realm, reaching into art and economics, affecting family relationships and educational endeavors, holding thrones and budgets in its grip.

The Bible does present us with a 'social gospel.' It does link 'Christ and culture,' proclaiming a message about "the liberation of structures.' Sin may have originated in the rebellious designs of individual wills, but human rebellion has institutionalized sin. Wickedness has become 'codified''; evil has become a part of the very fabric of human sociality. 'Changed hearts' will not 'change society' if the efforts at change are not also directed toward the structures and patterns of human interaction.

The work of the Cross is a many-faceted transaction. There are, in a sense, several 'theologies of atonement' hinted at in the Scriptures. The Cross was a transaction between the first and second Persons of the Trinity, wherein the Son offered himself to the Father as a substitutionary sacrifice, a 'ransom for sin.' And on the Cross Jesus encountered the principalities and powers, defeating them in spite of the fury they expended in their effort to destroy him. The dying Jesus also provides us with a profound display of 'selfless love.'

It would be wrong, then, to limit descriptions of Jesus' ministry to one set of categories when the Bible itself employs a rich variety of images and concepts. But it would also be wrong to ignore one of the significant strands of the Bible's portrayal of the work of the Cross. Thus, whatever else we might be compelled to say about the atoning work of Christ, this element must not be denied: Jesus shed his blood to rescue the creation from the curse of sin. And the cleansing blood of Christ must reach not only into the hearts and lives of individuals, but into every corner of the creation which the curse has affected.

I noted earlier the evangelical declaration that 'it is well with my soul,' and insisted that this is an important and profoundly biblical expression of Christian assurance. But it is not enough. It is a central confession, but it is a central confession; it is not a full expression of Christian assurance. The God who declares here and now that it is 'well' with my soul is the same creating Lord who once looked at the whole he had made and proclaimed, 'This is good.' This God wants once again to say that things are 'well' with his entire creation - and he will someday do so when he announces: 'Behold, I make all things new.... It is done! I am the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end' (Rev. 21:5-6). 'It is well with my soul' is only a first step, an initial fruit of God's redeeming activity. We must share in God's restless yearning for the renewal of the cosmos.

Evangelical Protestants have rightly emphasized the 'transactional' dimensions of the atoning work of Christ over against the teaching of the theological liberals. But in their own ways evangelicals too have operated with a restricted view of the redemptive ministry of Jesus. They have placed limits on the scope and power of the Cross. In boasting of a 'full gospel' they have often proclaimed a truncated Christianity. In speaking of a blood that cleanses from all unrighteousness, they have consistently restricted the meaning of the word 'all.' The problem might be described in this way: they have given full reign to the blood of Christ within a limited area. They have seen the work of Christ as being a totally transforming power only within individual lives. They have not shown much interest in the work of the Lamb as it applies to the broad reaches of culture or the patterns of political life, nor as a power that heals the racism, ethnocentrism, sexism, and injustice that have for so long poisoned human relationships. To such Christians we must insist that the Lamb is indeed the lamp of the City; just as we must insist to liberal Christians that the light which illuminates the City does indeed issue from the Lamb who shed his own blood as a ransom for sin" (When the Kings Come Marching In, pp. 108-12)

The Importance of the Pronoun "I"

"And so it is the Lamb who is the lamp of the City that will appear at the end of human history. In recent years this profound truth has been denied form two different directions. It is one of the sad and puzzling facts about recent understandings of the person and work of Jesus Christ that those who profess a 'high Christology' have seemed to care very little about about a critical perspective on cultural patterns, and that those in the Christian community who have been very concerned about cultural issues have often operated with a 'low Christology.' The important error in each of these cases has to do with a failure to comprehend the implications of the fact that the Lamb is the lamp of the City.

This fact, then, must first of all be pointed to for the benefit of those who have professed to honor Jesus as the Lamb of God but who have paid little attention to the cultural dimensions of his atoning work. Some Christians have greatly emphasized the individual benefits of the redemptive ministry of Jesus Christ. They have viewed the work of the Cross almost exclusively in terms of a transaction that took place to effect the salvation of individuals:

My sin – O the bliss of this glorious thought! –

My sin, not in part, but the whole,

Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more;

Praise the Lord, it is well with my soul.

We ought not to belittle this important emphasis in any way. It is an emphasis that has come to be associated with an 'evangelical' type of faith; indeed, it expresses something of the very heart of the Protestant Reformation. Jesus died to cancel the debt of our individual sins, and the believer is justified by faith in this atoning sacrifice. Every person who trusts in Jesus as the one who has 'paid it all' can live in the confidence that he or she has been granted an everlasting pardon from the penalty of sin. The saved individual has every reason to cry out in joy and confidence, 'It is forevermore well with MY soul!'

The love of God which has reached humankind in a special way in the redemptive work of Jesus is an 'individualizing' love, addressed to unique persons. The salvation of one-of-a-kind men and women is an important element in the atoning work of the Lamb of God. Names will be written in the Lamb's Book of Life.

Some Christians have expressed suspicions about this emphasis on the salvation of individuals; some have even ridiculed those who have insisted that this is a central emphasis in the gospel. They have feared that a strong pattern of 'individualism' lurks just beneath the surface of 'I-centered' expressions of Christian faith.

We cannot deny that dangerous tendencies manifest themselves in this kind of piety. But a fear that the truth might be distorted must not lead us to relax our grip on the truth. As James Cone has pointed out in his important book, The Spirituals and the Blues, the pronoun 'I' had an important place in the piety of the black slaves in North America. But as Professor Cone also argues, it would be wrong to dismiss this piety as mere 'individualism.' The Christian slave in North America suffered from a degradation that is extremely difficult for many of us to imagine - a degradation resulting from a yoke forged by racist and imperialist forces that conspired to destroy the unique personhood of the black slave. But these attempts at destruction consistently failed - and the failure was never more obvious than when the forces of oppression encountered a slave who had appropriated the claims of the gospel in a personal way.

The Christian slave was able to withstand the onslaught of dehumanizing forces because of a trust in the liberating work of the Lamb of God. Stripped of all family and other communal bonds, rendered nameless by a system that treated the slave as a piece of flesh to be bought and sold at the whim of the oppressor, the slave took refuge in a relationship that all of the combined forces of hell could not destroy. As the black 'spiritual' describes this relationship: 'Look what a wonder that Jesus has done/King Jesus has died for me.'

There is nothing that is intrinsically inappropriate then, about an understanding of the gospel that strongly emphasizes the individualizing love of God. Indeed, properly understood, this emphasis can express a profound comprehension of the gospel" (When the Kings Come Marching In, pp. 105-08).

Cultural Affairs as Preparation for the Future

Richard Mouw writes in his book When the Kings Come Marching In:

Describing the Holy City is one way in which the biblical writers portray what we commonly refer to as “heaven” or “the afterlife.” My own impression is that we are meant to make this portrayal central to our understanding of the heavenly condition. And, indeed, Christians of various persuasions have made the imagery of the Holy City prominent in their pieties. During my own spiritual upbringing I was exposed to the hymns and songs of several varieties of Protestantism. In the Dutch Calvinist “Christian school” that I attended for several years, we regularly sang about the “City four-square” that stood in “the land of fadeless day.” In fundamentalist youth groups I was taught to express the conviction that “I’ve got a mansion just over the hilltop, in that fair land where we’ll never grow old.” And at more “ecumenical” gathers I heard Christians pray:

Give us, O God, the strength to build

The City that hath stood

Too long a dream, whose laws are love,

Whose ways are brotherhood.

In my childhood, then, imagery of the Holy City figured prominently in our language about the future. But if you were to have asked me during those times to describe what heaven would be like- “really” like- I suspect I would not have used this imagery in my response. I would have been much more inclined to talk about a “spiritual” realm to which a bodiless soul goes in order to be with God. And I suspect that what was true of me then is still the case for many Christians today.

There is, I think, a plausible explanation for the ways in which Christians go back and forth between these two different ways of understanding the heavenly state. In the New Testament scheme there are at least two stages of the afterlife that must be taken into account. One is the condition of those believers hwo have died before the end of history. Where, we might ask, are our departed loved ones now? The Bible doesn’t give a detailed account of their present condition. But it does assure us that when Christians are “away from the body” they are “at home with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8), because death cannot separate a believer from the love of God (Rom. 8:38-39).

But this condition is only an “interim” or an “intermediate state” in which believers who have died are waiting for something further to happen. It is, in short, a condition of “waiting for the Resurrection.” Christian’s bodiless presence with the Lord is not the final state of blessedness. Our ultimate goal is to be raised up for new life, a resurrected life in which we realize our true destinies as followers of Jesus Christ. And it is with regard to this condition, our ultimate goal, that the biblical imagery of the Holy City must be viewed as central.

The Christian life is directed toward a City, a place in which God’s redemptive purposes for his creation will be realized. If we think of the future life as a disembodied existence in an ethereal realm- which is not, I have suggested, our ultimate goal- then it is difficult to think of our present cultural affairs as in any sense a positive preparation for heavenly existence. But if we think of the future life in terms of inhabiting a Heavenly City, we have grounds for looking for some patterns of continuity between our present lives as people immersed in cultural contexts and the life to come. The Bible, I think, encourages us to think in these terms. When the Kings Come Marching In, pp. 17-19

Mouw's words here reminded me a lot of my readings through N.T. Wright's Surprised by Hope (see my earlier blogpost, Have We Gotten Heaven Wrong?)

Outliers, by Malcolm Gladwell

I just finished a book by Malcolm Gladwell called Outliers. It is a fascinating book as Gladwell dispels the common notion that successful people are "self-made." Rather Gladwell builds the case that behind every successful person is a kind of convergence of opportunity, advantage, cultural and community legacy that contribute to that person's "success." As I read Gladwell's book, I kept thinking about a central theme of Scripture, "Grace," as Steven Garber my doctoral mentor has said, "an idea that changed the world." I quote from a section of Outliers where Gladwell's mother (who is Jamaican) struggles to come to terms with the discrimination she receives. She does so by coming to terms with the ways in which her own family, throughout history, had "taken advantage of" certain cultural privileges:

In the 1960s, my mother wrote a book about her experiences. It was entitled Brown Face, Big Master, the “brown face” referring to herself, and the “big master” referring, in the Jamaican dialect, to God. At one point she describes a time just after my parents were married when they were living in London and my eldest brother was still a baby. They were looking for an apartment, and after a long search, my father found one in a London suburb. On the day after they moved in, however, the land-lady ordered them out. “You didn’t tell me your wife was Jamaican,” she told my father in a rage.

In her book, my mother describes her long struggle to make sense of this humiliation, to reconcile her experience with her faith. In the end, she was forced to acknowledge that anger was not an option and that as a colored Jamaican whose family had benefited for generations from the hierarchy of race, she could hardly reproach another for the impulse to divide people by the shade of their skin:

[Begin Quote] I complained to God in so many words: “Here I was, the wounded representative of the negro race in our struggle to be accounted free and equal with the dominating whites!” And God was amused; my prayer did not ring true with Him. I would try again. And then God said, “Have you not done the same thing? Remember this one and that one, people whom you have slighted or avoided or treated less considerately than others because they were different superficially, and you were ashamed to be identified with them. Have you not been glad that you are not more colored than you are (light-skinned blacks in Jamaica ‘fare’ better socially)? Grateful that you are not black?” My anger and hate against the landlady melted. I was no better than she was, nor worst for that matter…. We were both guilty of the sin of self-regard, the pride and the exclusiveness by which we cut some people off from ourselves.  [End Quote]

It is not easy to be so honest about where we’re from. It would be simpler for my mother to portray her success as a straightforward triumph over victimhood, just as it would be simpler to look at Joe Flom and call him the greatest lawyer ever- even though his individual achievements are also impossibly intertwined with his ethnicity, his generation, the particulars of the garment industry, and the peculiar biases of the downtown law firms. Bill Gates could accept the title of genius, and leave it at that. It takes no small degree of humility for him to look back on his life and say, “I was very lucky.” And he was. The Mothers’ Club of Lakeside Academy bought him a computer in 1968. It is impossible for a hockey player, or Bill Joy, or Robert Oppenheimer, or any other outlier for that matter, to look down from their lofty perch and say with truthfulness, “I did this, all by myself.” Superstar lawyers and math whizzes and software entrepreneurs appear at first blush to lie outside ordinary experience. But they don’t. They are products of history and community, of opportunity and legacy. Their success is not exceptional or mysterious. It is ground in a web of advantages and inheritances, some deserved, some not, some earned, some just plain lucky- but all critical to making them who they are. The outlier, in the end, is not an outlier at all.

My great-great-great-grandmother was bought at Alligator Pond. That act, in turn, gave her son, John Ford, the privilege of skin color that spared him a life of slavery. The culture of possibility that Daisy Ford (Gladwell’s grandmother) embraced and put to use so brilliantly on behalf of her daughters was passed on to her by the peculiarities of the West Indian social structure. And my mother’s education was the product of the riots of 1937 and the industriousness of Mr. Chance (a Chinese grocer who gave Daisy money so Gladwell’s mother could go to college). These were history’s gifts to my family- and if the resources of that grocer, the fruit of those riots, the possibilities of that culture, and the privileges of that skin tone had been extended to others, how many more would now live a life of fulfillment, in a beautiful house high on a hill? pp. 283-85

While Gladwell's words don't seem to finish well in my mind, for they seem to lack greatly to the extent that their most glorious explanation of life can at best be captured in the vision of "a beautiful house on a high hill"? Nonetheless, there is much grace and insight in his words regarding how we have become the people we now are.

I grew up as a Taiwanese kid in Topeka, KS and have certain memories of being an "outsider"/outlier to a culture where less than 1% of the people were "minorities." Nonetheless, I would be a fool to think of myself as anything less than the product of much opportunity and grace. While there was much difficulty in the 70s with my dad establishing his medical practice as a Taiwanese doctor in Topeka, KS; nonetheless, once he did in fact become established (due to an industriousness that he learned from his family and culture, plus a natural temperament my dad has of "authenticity and extreme friendliness"), his work proved to become quite fruitful and lucrative. While from early on, I had my heart set on the "in-state" school, The University of Kansas; still, had I desired to go elsewhere and been able to perform well enough to be accepted to other institutions of higher learning (of course Gladwell says that even elite schools like Harvard basically pick from a pool of equally-qualified students utilizing a system that really is no better off than a lottery system), nonetheless, the opportunity would have been there for me. In many ways, the sky was truly the limit. While my mother is not currently a Christian, nonetheless I inherited my love of learning from her, and we continue to discuss the possible merits of the Christian faith in a kind of open conversation (I say "possible" in that she is still evaluating and considering the claims of Christ, so to her, they are currently "possible merits"). I am a child of opportunity and circumstance; of course, I understand such opportunity and circumstance to be the provision of a personal and loving God who gives good gifts. I am thankful.

More on Marilynne Robinson

Back in 2008, a review of Home showed up in a NY Times book review. This was an excerpt from that review that tells us a little more about Robinson: "Ten years ago, Robinson published 'The Death of Adam,' a collection of bracingly contrarian essays whose common thread was a defense of the Puritan intellectual and ethical tradition. Against the grain of much recent historiography — and in the teeth of a powerful literary tendency going back to the end of the 19th century — she defended John Calvin, Jonathan Edwards and their descendants against the usual charges of intolerance, prudery and parsimoniousness. Instead, she finds a tradition devoted to social justice, universal education and a chastening knowledge of human fallibility."

The Literary Calvinism of Marilynne Robinson

I found this article by Peter Leithart to be extremely insightful: The Literary Calvinism of Marilynne Robinson.  Leithart writes of Home, "If you’re looking for plot twists and action, look elsewhere.  I found myself turning the pages of Home because I couldn’t wait for the next luminous, memorable, glistening sentence. Stylistic clarity and uncluttered simplicity are the qualities of Robinson’s work that puts her in the tradition of American literary Calvinism.  As Wood (James) says, 'There is a familiar American simplicity . . . which is Puritan and colloquial in its origin,' found in 'the Puritan sermon, in Jonathan Edwards, in Ulysses S. Grant’s memoirs, in Mark Twain, in Willa Cather, in Hemingway.'"

Americans as Soft Moralists and Prigs

I'm reading through Marilynne Robinson's Home written about the fictional character of Presbyterian pastor Robert Boughton and the return of his "prodigal son" of twenty years, Jack. This is Robinson's third novel after penning the pulitzer-prize winner Gilead back in 2004. Without having a lot to say at this point about either book, other than they are engaging and beautifully-written, nonetheless, I came across a New Yorker article written by James Wood. Wood doesn't seem to be particularly friendly to Christians, especially evangelical Christians, but he seems to have a positive regard for Robinson (who would likely refer to herself as a "liberal" or "mainline" Christian), particularly some of her thoughts about Americans in their rejection of "sin," Calvin and the Puritans, being what she calls "soft moralists" and "prigs":

But Robinson is illiberal and unfashionably fierce in her devotion to this Protestant tradition; she is voluble in defense of silence. She loathes the complacent idleness whereby contemporary Americans dismiss Puritanism and turn John Calvin, its great proponent, into an obscure, moralizing bigot: “We are forever drawing up indictments against the past, then refusing to let it testify in its own behalf—it is so very guilty, after all. Such attention as we give to it is usually vindictive and incurious and therefore incompetent.” We flinch from Puritanism because it placed sin at the center of life, but then, as she tartly reminds us, “Americans never think of themselves as sharing fully in the human condition, and therefore beset as all humankind is beset.” Calvin believed in our “total depravity,” our utter fallenness, but this was not necessarily a cruel condemnation. “The belief that we are all sinners gives us excellent grounds for forgiveness and self-forgiveness, and is kindlier than any expectation that we might be saints, even while it affirms the standards all of us fail to attain,” Robinson writes in her essay “Puritans and Prigs.” Nowadays, she argues, educated Americans are prigs, not Puritans, quick to pour judgment on anyone who fails to toe the right political line. Soft moralizing has replaced hard moralizing, but at least those old hard moralists admitted to being moralists. I do not always enjoy Robinson’s ecstasies, but I admire the obdurateness with which she describes the difficult joys of a faith….  The Homecoming, by James Wood

Sons, a Heritage from the Lord

My boys are good sons. My youngest Calvin (age 6) gave evidence the other day that he is not only a good boy, but also my son when he came home from school having drawn this picture (if anyone doesn't know, we live in Lincoln, NE where all my children have been born and raised). "Sons are a heritage from the Lord..." (Psalm  127:3). When Cal gave me his handiwork, I did think some about James K.A. Smith's book and the particular practices, i.e. liturgies, we participate in day in and day out that shape our hearts and values (our "social imaginaries" as Smith puts it). How else would Calvin have developed such a love for KU in such hostile territory :-)? There is the annual liturgical practice of getting ready for basketball season; Late Night in the Phog always happens in mid-October. There is the daily ritual of going to kusports.com and following recruiting at theshiver.com. Of course, there's the poor man's liturgical rhythm of "signing back up for cable" when basketball season arrives. My kids are always jazzed this time of year regarding the accompanying benefits of this type of liturgical rhythm; not only does dad get to watch basketball, but they get to watch the cartoon network!

Crouch Conclusion: Culture-Making in Community

Crouch concludes his book by adding three qualifiers to his contention that where we experience the most amount of grace and fruitfulness is the process through which we discern calling, i.e. our vocation. His three qualifiers are: 1) even in places of fruitfulness, our work will require spiritual disciplines and much work that is tedious; 2) that grace in fruitfulness is not an exemption from failure, rather it is what sustains hope in the midst of it and 3) in identifying with the Cross, even in our fruitfulness, we expect to confront much brokenness, pain and forsakenness.

And then he leaves us with these beautiful words:

Frederick Buechner writes that your calling is found “where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet.” In all those places, at the intersection of grace and cross, these friends of mine, who are just names to you but who are the greatest treasures in the world to me, cultivate and create. And of course this is just one snapshot of the many places to which each of us is called, since Elizabeth (who raises three children who sometimes tax her to the very limit, creating a culture of forgiveness, play and prayer) is also a writer, Megan (who serves orphans in Africa) is also an artist, Karl (who works as an executive in a technology firm and wrestles with ways corporate life can constrain one’s hopes, dreams and fears) is also a lay leader in his church, Catherine (Andy’s wife who is a teacher in a culturally and socioeconomically diverse school) is also a musician and mom, and I (Andy, who says he tells stories that no one would otherwise hear from the margins of our world) am also a dad. There is not space enough to tell all the ways we have become partners in one another’s culture making, friends and comrades, suffering and rejoicing together- the amazingly resilient and creative communities of friendship and family that can grow and bear fruit over our short human lives.

So do you want to make culture? Find a community, a small group who can lovingly fuel your dreams and puncture your illusions. Find friends and form a family who are willing to see grace at work in one another’s lives, who can discern together which gifts and which crosses each has been called to bear. Find people who have a holy respect for power and a holy willingness to spend their power alongside the powerless. Find some partners in the wild and wonderful world beyond church doors.

And then, together, make something of the world.  Culture Making, p. 263 

Vocation, a Process of Discerning Fruitfulness

"Early on in my adult life, on the days when my job (Andy Crouch served as a campus minister at Harvard at the time) was frustrating and disappointing, and in an era when skills in technology were being handsomely rewarded, I would cherish the idea of leaving ministry behind to simply put in the hours as a systems analyst, cashing a generous paycheck far from campus ministry's risks and failures. It took me several years to face the futility of that fantasy and recognize that such a career move, for me, would lead to a choked life of 'the cares of the world, the lure of wealth, and the desire for other things.' I had to admit that over and over, even in the midst of long hours and hard work, I had come to some moment of harvest- a conversation with a student, a night song and prayer, an opportunity to teach- where the results, in terms of change and growth and joy vastly out proportion to any contribution I had made, left all involved nearly speechless with gratitude. And the more I let go of my fantasies of securing my own life and avoiding the pain of the particular work I was called to do, the more frequent were these moments where my students, my partners and I glimpsed something I can only call glory.

But some of my colleagues in ministry had the opposite experience. We labored under a subtle but real dichotomy between sacred and secular, granting full legitimacy only to callings to 'ministry' under the pretext of subverting Harvard's lure of wealth, fame and power. So we recruited more than one associate with the rhetoric of renouncing their ambitions (as we called it, 'leaving their nets'), only to see them struggle doggedly to produce the kind of abundance we had promised. More than one eventually left us and took up 'secular' jobs- where they found a sense of freedom and joy that they had never experienced in our demanding company of workers for the gospel.

Is it possible to participate in culture, to create culture, outside of the church and experience every bit as much divine multiplication as those who work inside the church? For centuries many Christians would have answered no. A few had 'vocations'- a word that still today, in Catholic contexts, refers to a specifically religious life- and the rest did not. To have a vocation was to withdraw to the edges of culture (although monasteries and churches were once more culturally central and culturally creative than they often are today).

But there are two serious problems with this approach to vocation. First, even the full-time sacred agenda turns out to be no guarantee of either holiness or fruitfulness. Segmenting off a 'sacred' set of cultural activities sets us up for disillusionment when the sacred specialists turn out to be no more creative and no less corruptible than their secular counterparts. Second, it becomes impossible to do justice to the biblical story, in which the whole world was created good, the first human beings were given a cultural task, not just instructed to be dutiful worshippers (unlike in other creation myths of the time), and the Son of God himself spent most of his life as a carpenter.

The religious or secular nature of our cultural creativity is simply the wrong question. The right question is whether, when we undertake the work we believe to be our vocation, we experience the joy and humility that come only when God multiplies our work that it bears thirty, sixty and a hundredfold beyond what we could expect from our feeble inputs. Vocation- calling- becomes another word for a continual process of discernment, examining the fruits of our work to see whether they are producing that kind of fruit, and doing all we can to scatter the next round of seed in the most fruitful places.

I believe the single best question for discerning our calling- the specific cultural sphere and scale where we and our communities... are called to cultivate and create- is Where do you experience grace- divine multiplication that far exceeds your efforts?" (Culture Making, pp. 255-57).