Category Archives: Faith and Culture

The Inconvenience of Lent

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Stephanie Smith

In our American culture of drive-through coffee, instant Twitter feeds, and video on demand, we prize immediacy. We like to check our email on our touchscreen phone as soon as it hits our inbox, grab lunch to-go, and download live-streaming news. We are a nation of busy professionals, parents, and students living under the banner of “carpe diem,” driven by the idea that there’s no time like the present.

This “now” syndrome certainly has advantages, motivating us to work hard and invest fully in whatever we’re doing, but what happens when we apply our instant-culture values to spirituality?

Last month, I had a bizarre experience with communion that made me consider this question. After months of exhausting church-searching, my husband and I finally found a church where we wanted to stay. It’s a contemporary kind of church, the kind that has a graphic designer on staff and a coffee bar out in the hall, and we came because we like the teaching and the small groups. But you have to understand, the church we went to before we moved was a liturgical church, the kind with Kierkegaard quotes in every other sermon and weekly communion. So we knew we’d have to make some adjustments at our new church.

But this is what I did not expect: communion that is served before the service, an addendum tacked onto and separate from the worship service. So we set our alarms a little earlier, entered the sanctuary, and found only a fraction of the congregation had shown up. The pastor said a prayer for this handful of early-risers, and at his invitation we filed up front and received the elements, and then it was over. The whole ordeal took literally five minutes. There was no time of confession before receiving the sacrament. There was no benediction afterwards, charging us to go forth bearing Christ into the world. There was no community, only a faithful few. There was no ritual, no careful unfolding of holiness.

It was like grabbing Christ’s blood of the covenant, His outpouring for the world, in a Styrofoam to-go cup. It was a sacrament dictated by convenience, quickly squeezed in between other items on the agenda, and left out of the greater context of cosmic redemption.

The problem with an instant culture, and an instant church, is that a preoccupation with the present diminishes our ability to see seasons, to see story, to observe the unfolding of time. This is the pivotal idea of the sacrament of communion: Christ asks us to remember Him by taking the bread and wine (Luke 22:19), and to anticipate the future when we will eat and drink with Him face to face (Matt. 26:29).

As we now enter the season of Lent, we enter a time of waiting. There is no immediacy or convenience here. But there is a story of cosmic proportions unfolding, as we take the forty days of Lent to remember, to walk through the events of the life of Christ: the temptation in the desert, the agony of Good Friday, the silence and sorrow of Holy Saturday, and the joyful victory of Sunday morning.

It is often difficult for us to lay down our gadgets and agendas to just sit for a while, quiet our souls, and dwell with God. And yet, He laid down everything for us, making Himself “nothing” and emptying Himself to the point of death (Phil. 2:7-98). In his beautiful poem “Seven Stanzas at Easter,” John Updike writes of the agony of the cross, “Let us not seek to make it less monstrous, for our own convenience…” As we cross the threshold of Ash Wednesday, let us reflect sincerely and sorrowfully on Christ’s suffering for us, so that on Easter morning, our hearts will grasp the incredible joy in His resurrection.

Stephanie S. Smith graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a degree in Communications and Women’s Ministry, which she now puts to work freelancing as a book publicist and writer through her business, (In)dialogue Communications, at www.stephaniessmith.com. After living in Chicago for four years, traveling to Amsterdam for a spell, and then moving back home to Baltimore to plan a wedding, she now lives with her husband in Upstate New York where they make novice attempts at home renovation in their 1930s bungalow. She writes for www.startmarriageright.com and manages Moody Publishers’ blog, www.insidepages.net.

Memoirs: Self-Obsessed or Sacramental?

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Stephanie Smith

American novelist Henry Adams once wrote, “Everyone must bear his own universe, and most persons are moderately interested in learning how their neighbors have managed to carry theirs.”

This line, written in 1918, would be an understatement for modern readers who are consuming the published memoir as fast as it can be printed. The memoir, as a published form of self-narrative, has successfully climbed the literary ladder, claiming equal standing with the traditional novel and receiving recognition by literary scholars as a genre revolution. Within the past thirty years, the memoir has asserted itself as a rising trend in the writing world.

Yet public responses are mixed: skeptics claim that the memoir indulges in syrupy solipsism, the theory that the self is the only reality, while enthusiasts praise it for the value of self-discovery through story. With an emerging cultural impulse to chronicle the self and such conflicting estimations of this trend, the church must join the conversation. The church must recognize the rise of the self-narrative as a signpost for the human longing for transcendence and affirm storytelling as a sacrament in the high art of illuminating divine grace.

The memoir is a personal narrative that provides the author with a verbal processing of the self’s “becoming.” This kind of literature has charmed millions of readers with this human interest appeal in bestsellers such as The Color of Water by James McBride, The Liar’s Club by Mary Karr, and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou. The voice of memoir offers its readers an occasion for personal identification so that a reader can find him or herself within the story of another and perhaps borrow the wisdom, healing or insight from similar life threads.

Henry Adams’ idea of the private universe of men is being born into memoir, as the individual universe of motherhood experience, healing from the trauma of abuse, or growing up in a racially mixed family is translated into print. The private universe of the writer, then, opens up a new world to the reader in which a common human spirit is realized, introducing the memoir as a catalyst for community.

The Church’s Response: Stories as Sacrament

The church is no stranger to self-narrative, understood in Christian circles as spiritual testimony, and Augustine’s Confessions is just one example. Beginning with the gospels and later patterned in martyology, hagiography, confession and conversion testimony, the story paradigm is rooted in ancient church tradition. The church has an evangelistic responsibility to engage the rising confessional characteristic of culture for kingdom purposes rather than dismissing it as a narcissistic endeavor. The church need not be suspicious of the collective cultural cry for self-understanding, having its own so satisfied in the Person of Christ. Instead, the church must bridle the technique of self-narrative for Christian testimony, and affirm the art of life story as a powerful witness for grace.

The pattern for spiritual testimony finds its structure in the grand drama of redemption, as the unfolding story of a believer’s sanctification is only understood in the identification with the rhythms of Christ’s life, death and resurrection. The storyteller must then recognize the tension between the cosmic Story of redemption and the echoing story of personal redemption. By telling personal story within the framework of God’s Story, we can engage the cultural trend of self-narrative while adding the new, redemptive element of pointing beyond the self to the Savior.

The cultural rise in the self-narrative affords the church a powerful opportunity to channel the very same confessional trait into spiritual testimony. The church can enter the social scene of life-writing by affirming it in theology as sacrament and encouraging it in practice as testimony. The church is already a credible voice in the self-narrative genre not only because of its tradition of testimony, but also in its sacramental ability to transcend the very story it tells by praising the grace of the Divine Author, something no secular memoir can claim. The art of testimony, then, trades a religion of solipsism, characterized by self-devotion, for a religion of sacrament, marked by the surpassing of the self to point to the Savior.

Stephanie S. Smith graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a degree in Communications and Women’s Ministry, which she now puts to work freelancing as a book publicist and writer through her business, (In)dialogue Communications, at www.stephaniessmith.com. After living in Chicago for four years, traveling to Amsterdam for a spell, and then moving back home to Baltimore to plan a wedding, she now lives with her husband in Upstate New York where they make novice attempts at home renovation in their 1930s bungalow. She is a member of the Young Professionals of the Southern Tier and blogs for Moody Publishers at www.insidepages.net.

Thankfulness

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Bonnie Ponce

Bonnie Ponce reflects on being thankful. Thankfulness.  It is a word that we think of around Thanksgiving but recently I have been thinking a lot about being thankful.  The other day my husband and I were watching Veggie Tales, which may be strange since we don’t have kids, but we were watching the episode with Madam Blueberry.  She is a very “blue” berry who is sad.  She is told that buying more stuff will make her happy but on her way to Stuff Mart she sees a less fortunate girl thanking her parents for a meager birthday dessert of apple pie.  Later she sees a little boy ask for a cool train set but is told no by his father and instead he gets a bouncy ball and he also says thank you, making an impression on Madam Blueberry, who learns to be thankful.

Seeing this short video made me think about my wish list – all the stuff I want and if I had money to burn I would probably begin to make a dent in my list.  It also made me think about what I am thankful for in my life.  Thankfulness is tough – it is so much easier to go through life, see stuff, and want it but to be thankful you have to use your brain and think of what you are thankful for.

Thankfulness is the language of love and joy.  It speaks from a heart overflowing with hope of good things to come.  With Relief I see many good things coming in the future and I hope that with the Love Relief campaign we can continue to bring great literature!

Just an ending thought on thankfulness:

Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a gift and not giving it.
-unknown

Bonnie Ponce is the Director of Support Raising for Relief and lives in Huntsville, Texas with her husband and betta fish. She has a BA in English from Sam Houston State University. After work she enjoys relaxing with a good book or working on her novel.

Do Anger and Creating Mix?

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Kimberly Culbertson

Are You Reading Along?

Have you clicked over to Don Miller’s Blog lately? You know I have, because this isn’t the first link I’ve posted on the Relief site. He’s been blogging a series on “The Way of A Creator,” and I think Relief readers everywhere should be reading along.

Anger + Creation = ?

Today, his post states that “A Creator Resists the Urge to Create out of Anger.” You’ll want to read the whole post, but here’s a quick quote:

The public only has a consciousness so big, and when you create something good, and it gets into the public consciousness, there’s less room for whatever it is that made you angry. So go and create something good, and displace whatever it is that is pissing you off.

This post has me thinking about Relief’s beginnings. Part of our story is that the vision for this journal was born out of frustration. I’ll be honest–sometimes “Christian” literature makes me angry. For years we’ve endeavored to create something that displaces the sometimes-overly-sanitized work that well, pisses us off… okay, I’m not sure I’m following Don’s advice in this sentence.

Thoughts? How do you, as a creator, wrestle your anger? Do you agree with Don’s advice?

So Close, So Far Apart

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Christopher Fisher

I’m not a Catholic (and I’ve never even played one on TV), but I have so many friends who are that I’m always interested in what’s going on in the Catholic Church. Today, Reuters has an interesting article on a recent–and I think very wise–warning from Pope Benedict concerning the subtle dangers of online social networks. In a message for the Catholic Church’s World Day of Communications, Benedict says: “It is important always to remember that virtual contact cannot and must not take the place of direct human contact with people at every level of our lives.”

I’ve long been bothered by a line from Andrew Lloyd Weber and Tim Rice’s Jesus Christ Superstar: “Why’d you [Christ] choose such a backward time in such a strange land? If you’d come today you could have reached a whole nation. Israel in 4 B.C. had no mass communication.”

On the surface, this seems like a really good question. But now, in the midst of this present “communication age,” in which people the whole world over are growing more and more connected, while as persons, as individual men and women, so many are more isolated and lonely than ever, I think I’m beginning to understand that it simply wouldn’t have worked. All of the mass communication in the universe could not relay what Christ had in mind with the Church–individual persons communing with one another as a whole. Feeding, soothing, and yes, touching one another. Greeting each other, as the New Testament says, “with a holy kiss,” not a virtual finger poke.

The next issue of Relief will open up for presales this week, and the stories, essays, and poems inside follow a similar theme of isolation vs. communion. I hope you will order a copy as soon as it is available. Not only will you help us make our print run, you’ll also get to read some of the finest writing we’ve published so far.