where's akshay?

On the Strength of His Shoulders

2012-01-20T15:21:00.001+05:30

The first Christmas was an ugly one.

The New Testament doesn't paint a pretty portrait of the birth of Christ. He was born into poverty and public disgrace. He was the suspicious child of an unmarried teenager. His parents nearly separated before they got married, but for an angel and a directive dream. He was a refugee on the run from the wrath of an insecure king, who ordered genocide to safeguard his throne. He neither had an honored place of birth nor a nurse to attend to his needs. Yet angels, shepherds, kings and astrologers were in company with stars, cattle, prophets and priests; as the supporting cast in a story that was written before the world began.

But the birth of Christ itself doesn't seem to hold a special place in the New Testament. Out of the 89 chapters in the Gospels, only four record the story. Two of the Gospels don't even mention it. We don’t even know anything about nearly twenty years of his life. Significantly though, 25 chapters in the Gospels are devoted to the last week of his life. Clearly, the Gospel writers had a theological agenda. Nevertheless, there is much significance to His birth when we hold it against the larger revelation of the nature of God, His finished sacrificial work and His ongoing redemptive purpose for humanity. Perhaps, this is where our meditation on Christmas ought to begin.

The birth of Christ was foretold by the prophets in the context of a coming kingdom.
His birth marked the beginning of a righteous reign that was passionately promised and eagerly anticipated. In Jesus, the kingdom had broken into the nation of Israel, under Roman rule. The kingdom of God is at the heart of the message of Jesus. In fact, Charles Colson says, "Sadly, that kingdom message is often missed in our saccharine retelling of the Christmas story. Somehow we glaze over the angel's words to Mary, that she will give birth to a son whose "kingdom will never end". The myopia continues as we read the Gospels...An earth-shaking, kingdom-sized announcement is reduced to a personal self-help story. Our gospel has grown too small."

The cosmic kingdom of God is much larger than its implications for the individual. To be sure, it has personal redemptive implications, but it has global implications as well. To celebrate Christmas is to rejoice in the hope of a reign that will overshadow the failure of rulers of all nations throughout all ages. In fact, Isaiah foretold the coming of Christ, saying “the government will be on His shoulders.”

Reflecting on this, N.T. Wright says, "…we have forgotten the Christmas message, or have neutered it, have rendered it toothless, as though the shoulder of the child born this night was simply a shoulder for individuals to lean on rather than the shoulder to take the weight of the world’s government. Because this night, together with its senior cousin, the night of Easter, is the real night for which planet earth was waiting and to which it must look back if it wants to know the way forward. We place too much trust in our politicians because we place too little trust in God, and in the self-revelation of the living God in the child who is born to us."

India is going through a political crisis of its own making. The ruling government and its vociferous opposition are competing with each other in a comedy of errors that is, tragically, laughable. In an open letter to Congress MP Rahul Gandhi, Pratap Bhanu Mehta, presents a rather bleak view of things. He says, "Not a single one of the big-ticket items the country needs has progressed. Centralisation of governance remains endemic. There is no serious progress on GST. There is an energy crisis looming. With the exception of RTI, there is no meaningful administrative reform…Corruption is endemic. Evasion of responsibility remains the norm. Every single institution, from the office of the prime minister to the cabinet, stands weakened. The capacity of the system to negotiate conflict and grievances is declining." Whether he’s realistic or pessimistic, this year has certainly seen more than its fair share of scandal, drama and publicly fought battles in politics.

When we think of the birth of Christ as the partial fulfillment of His promise to reign the world in righteousness, it tells us how we can participate in the complete fulfillment of that promise, when He returns to establish His righteous rule. As far as our nation goes, it must force us to ask the question of how a Christian should relate to government. As complex as the answer might be, perhaps the first place to begin is with prayer. In his letter to Timothy, the apostle Paul writes "I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone - for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior...". In his book, Prayer, Philip Yancey credits prayer with altering the course of history in apartheid-struck South Africa and communist-ruled Romania, among other historical events. India needs intercessors who place the government on its rightful shoulders.

More poignantly perhaps, the Church itself limps into the new year with deep-seated caste-divisions and unhealthy tribal loyalties that cut through the lives of Christians all across the country. There will be a tragic irony, this Christmas, as groups all over India sing to the Prince of Peace, hiding war in the depths of their hearts. Christianity Today reported that the newly Christian India is found mostly at the bottom rung of society, typically poor and illiterate, numbering 140 million or more Dalits and Tribals". Confirming caste divisions in Christianity, Y. Moses, a Dalit activist, says, "The Brahmins have a religion that has gone into the minds of the victims. All one in Christ is theoretically correct, but practically it is not true. We are not all one in Christ." Perhaps we ought to ask ourselves whether we can be truly reconciled to God without being reconciled to each other.

This Christmas, in the midst of national political drama and a deeply divided church, let us remember that a child is born to us, a son is given to us and the government will rest upon the strength of His shoulders. The kingdom of God is made visible to this nation through His people. Our prayers empower the nation and our unity puts the splendor His kingdom on display. The return of Christ promises a reign of corruption-free Righteousness, caste-free Justice and violence-free Peace. In the year ahead of us, may we bring that kingdom into view, by becoming the intercessors and peacemakers we are meant to be.

Published in Christian Trends Magazine, December 2011

A Lament for the Lady

2011-12-08T13:22:00.001+05:30

The Lady sighs inaudibly,
Drowning chants and choking anthems,
Now rebuking, now reproving
the naked noises of the night

The Lady lifts her longing
Taunting Caesar and his scepter.
She cries with groans, unearthly
mourning weeds in her own garden,
hiding hope of coming Levi.

Weaker men than Adam,
live like dogs without a master,
like birds without a sky.
The wind whistles an ugly strain;
there is no water in the well.
We are but sheep without a pasture
This isn't home,
this is but hell

This Might be Inflammatory

2011-12-06T14:40:00.001+05:30

India's getting anxious about Indians.

The Indian Communications Minister, Kapil Sibal, is making headlines because of his requests to Google, Yahoo, Microsoft and Facebook, asking them to remove disparaging and defamatory content. It raises questions about whether India is imitating China's love for censorship, (Google and Facebook are banned in China) but Sibal says the government isn't interested in censorship. He says he wants to protect the religious and national sentiments of Indians and explains his actions as an attempt to regulate content for public consumption.

According to NDTV, The New York Times reported that six weeks ago, Mr Sibal met with representatives from companies like Yahoo and Microsoft. The report claimed, "At the meeting, Mr. Sibal showed attendees a Facebook page that maligned the Congress Party's president, Sonia Gandhi. "This is unacceptable," he told attendees. The Hindu reported that Mr. Sibal, in particular, took a strong view on the use of morphed images of Congress President, Sonia Gandhi and Prime Minister, Dr. Manmohan Singh on Facebook.

India today has over 10-crore internet users, third largest in the world after China and the U.S. The nation also has over 2.8-crore Facebook users and is the fifth largest country on Facebook. Its expected to become the second largest by the end of 2012. In response to Mr. Sibal's requests, the Hindu says "the websites expressed their helplessness to screen content, but offered their support in prosecuting such elements found misusing the Internet. 'We have told the government that we will cooperate with the government in penalizing those found guilty of uploading objectionable content … we have urged them to prosecute such elements under relevant Acts by filing cases against them,” said a senior official of a social networking website."

But beyond the question of whether Mr. Sibal is right or not, lies the more poignant question of how a citizenship ought to relate to its government. Even more so, if its an elected one.

Shashi Tharoor's comments on Twitter state, "I understand Facebook is indeed taking down some pages that Kapil Sibal showed them. Pretty vile stuff. Sadly public didn't object to them first." He has even gone on record to say that some of the examples given to him by Mr. Sibal contained deeply offensive material about regions and communities that could incite riots. I don't agree with Mr. Sibal's efforts to gag the internet, but I sympathize with his concerns. Even if Mr. Sibal's methods are not ideal, there is a deep-seated communal animosity and dangerous anti-government sentiment in the hearts of some of our citizens. This needs to be addressed, one way or another.

In late November, CNN IBN journalist, Sagarika Ghose, posted a sample of the sort of angry, vulgar, obscene comments made on Twitter, by faceless people operating anonymous accounts. The vile tweets were use to express disagreement with her political views. Before we put our government on trial, perhaps we need to be asking questions about our own conduct in the country. Surely, freedom comes with its own responsibility to be respectful.

Omar Abdullah, CM of Jammu & Kashmir, chimed in on Twitter saying, "I hate the idea of censorship but have seen for myself how dangerous inflammatory content on Facebook and YouTube can be. We want the luxury of free speech but not the burden of responsibility for how we use that freedom. Something will have to give. If push came to shove I'd come down on the side of freedom of speech but its one of those freedoms that has me worried unfortunately."

In reference to the anti-government sentiments generated by the wildly popular Anna Hazare movement, Manu Joseph penned an insightful article, The Politics of Scorning Politicians. In it, he says, "The way most Indians react to their political leaders, it is as if the politicians had fallen from another world. The fact is…they have been chosen by the people of India in a genuine mass movement many times larger than the crowds Mr. Hazare has drawn, either in flesh and blood or on social media sites. The government led by the Indian National Congress party was voted into power in 2009 by more than 150 million people, or nearly 40 percent of the Indians who cast their votes in the general elections that year. The simple fact is that in a democracy, the largest mass movement is democracy itself."

The way a citizenship relates to its government says a lot about its character. Whether we go to the ballots with a decision or quietly permit them into power with our silence, we're responsible for the people who are in positions of power. When a nation rants against its government with obscenity, it says that while we love democracy, we don't want to live with its outcomes. India doesn't yet know what it means to submit to its authorities.

In a nation that needs to relearn the value of edifying speech, the Christian is urged to speak as if he were speaking the very words of God. Even more so, whether its a political regime prone to persecution or a generous monarch who celebrates diversity, the Christian is urged to pray for his rulers. In his letter to Timothy, the apostle Paul writes "I urge, then, first of all, that requests, prayers, intercession and thanksgiving be made for everyone - for kings and all those in authority, that we may live peaceful and quiet lives in all godliness and holiness. This is good, and pleases God our Savior…"

In his book, Prayer, Philip Yancey tells a story of South Africa's racist government in the 1990's. Forty-five black people were murdered in a township and Bishop Desmond Tutu attended a funeral service in a sports ground, with anger surging through the 15000-strong crowd of people. Speakers called for revenge until the Bishop stepped forward, motioned for silence and began to speak. 'I am your bishop, appointed by God. I have been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. And yet do you see that police dog over there? That dog can go on beaches in South Africa that would not tolerate my presence!". The crowd exploded. He had them eating out of his hand. In the next thirty minutes, using nothing but words - the rod of his mouth - he silenced the crowd, brought them to peace and closed in prayer. Fifteen thousand demonstrators, out for blood, simply turned around and walked home.

Prayer is the urgent work of the peacemaker, and profanity has no place among the prayerful. When a nation learns to pray for its rulers, perhaps it will unlearn its obsession with obscenity.

Martyr's Eyes

2011-11-30T11:06:00.001+05:30

The church is built on the backs of the martyrs. In the first three hundred years of the church, Christians were tortured and martyred because they trusted in Jesus more than Caesar. During my years in Bible college, I rummaged through history books and read some of the accounts of persecution in the early church. One of the most gripping stories was the martyrdom of a young slave woman, Blandina.

Blandina was persecuted in Lyon, France, under the reign of the emperor, Marcus Aurelius, in 177 A.D. Initially, she was forced to witness the martyrdom of her fellow believers with the intent of intimidating her. She was unmoved. She stood strong and encouraged the others who were forced to be witnesses along with her. When the cards called her name, she was tied to a post and exposed as food for the wild beasts. She embraced it with boldness, as if she were entering a marriage feast. But the beasts refused to touch her and she was taken away to be tortured another day.

Later, she was scourged, thrown into a frying pan and tortured from dawn to dusk, until her body was mangled and torn. Eventually, she was thrown into a net and released to the bulls. The animals tossed her around so vigorously that she lost perception of what was happening, until she finally died. Through all her torture, Blandina was filled with such power that those who took turns to torture her, in every way - from dawn till evening - were themselves worn out and exhausted. They admitted that they were beaten and there was nothing more they could do to her. Witnesses reported that even in the midst of her torment, she repeatedly cried out, "I am a Christian; and with us no evil finds a place". Even her tormenters acknowledged that, in all their experience, no woman had ever endured such terrible suffering.

We would do well to remember the martyrs.

Philip Yancey was reflecting on the reasons people turn to Christ, drawing a comparison between the West and China. He found that, while westerners come to Christ out of a search for meaning and purpose, the Chinese turn to Him with an acute awareness that they might be martyred for their faith. Yancey says that its the Chinese who might have a deeper awareness of the kind of devotion to which we have been summoned. Even today, around 170,000 Christians are martyred every year.

We live in a time of unparalleled self-centeredness. There's a mantra that's ingrained into the fabric of our generation. Its a mantra of self-gratification, self-advancement and the relentless pursuit of personal fulfillment. Believe in yourself. Realize your destiny. Be the best that you can be. Even Slavoj Zizek, the popular atheist and intellectual, calls it a spiritualized hedonism that stands in stark contrast to the once noble ambition of sacrificing yourself for a cause that is larger than your life.

Our generation needs a people that can see through the false promise of personal fulfillment. C.S. Lewis says, "…It would seem that our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."

Perhaps we need martyr’s eyes. Then we might see that what lies beyond the grave is far greater than what comes before it. The worst of eternity is greater than the best of this present reality. The call to live for Christ is a polite invitation to die to ourselves. It means that we regard the things of this world with disdain in comparison to the riches of the coming kingdom. It means that we choose to die to the patterns, habits, values and pursuits of this passing reality because we want to know the life that comes by learning to die. Perhaps in this age of self-centeredness, we would do well to remember that in the economy of the Gospel, its the ones who die to themselves who find the life that is truly life.

One Hundred and Eleven Voices

2011-11-25T12:46:00.001+05:30

It's etched on a thousand pillars
in tongues we know not yet
In the groaning of the childless mother
and the bitter songs of her regret

There are no vessels to contain the fruit
of trees that drink from her deep waters
There is no hunger for the pilgrims
who dwell in the shadow of her strength

Every eye has seen her matchless face
though they know not yet, her name
Before their hands stretch out to meet her
She has wrapped them in her embrace

Wild men journey to distant, foreign lands
fighting furies through the night
If only they knew their inner being
She's always hiding in plain sight

The Gospel according to Rich People

2011-11-23T13:05:00.001+05:30

Its getting harder to tell the truth from a lie. A few years ago, a friend of my family lost her husband to a terminal disease. She and her children had trusted in God for healing. They received words, signs and confirmations that God would heal him. But when he died, God was in the dock. A spiritual contract had been violated and a family was distraught and disappointed. Somehow, something had gone terribly wrong. Tragically, there was an imbalance in their theological diet. They were fed with a strong theology of healing, but a weak theology of suffering and a weaker theology of death. In a nutshell, that’s the trouble with the present and popular, prosperity Gospel.

The Lausanne Theology Working Group (Africa Chapter), defines the prosperity Gospel as “the teaching that believers have a right to the blessings of health and wealth and that they can obtain these blessings through positive confessions of faith and the ‘sowing of seeds’ through the faithful payments of tithes and offerings”. Widely known as Word of Faith, Health and Wealth, Name It and Claim It and Prosperity Theology, the instant appeal and increasing popularity of the prosperity Gospel is understandable.

Christianity Today says, “Throughout sub-Saharan Africa, a prosperity-tinged Pentecostalism is growing faster than other strands of Christianity, as well as all other religious groups, including Islam". The Economist reported that one million Kenyans attended a T. D. Jakes conference in Nairobi. Though Jakes has been called a prosperity preacher, he claims to teach God's blessing holistically. In India, GOD TV has brought the teaching, and its most popular American proponents, to more than 30 million homes - a potential 100 million viewers in about 200 towns and cities of the nation.

As for its origins, Christianity Today records, "The earliest proponents of positive thinking were spiritual innovators like Phineas P. Quimby and Mary Baker Eddy, founders of the New Thought movement and Christian Science, respectively. By the turn of the 20th century, Essek William Kenyon, a pastor and founder of Bethel Bible Institute, had incorporated similar ideas into his preaching on the finished work of Christ. In the 1930's Kenneth Hagin added Kenyon's teachings to his Pentecostal beliefs to create what would become the Word-Faith movement.”

In his booklet, How to Write Your Own Ticket with God, Hagin claims that Jesus appeared to him and told him to write four things - Say it, Do it, Receive it, Tell it - and said, "if anybody, anywhere, will take these four steps or put these four principles into operation, he will always receive whatever he wants from Me or from God the Father.” Today, Kenneth Copeland, Creflo Dollar, Benny Hinn, Bishop Eddie Long and Joel Osteen are some of the most popular teachers identified with prosperity teaching.

L.T. Jeyachandran, Director RZIM Asia-Pacific, often teaches that there is no error in the truth, but there is always some truth in every error. This should discourage us from dismissing every error without due respect to the truth within the error. With that in mind, if the prosperity Gospel is erroneous, we must diligently discover the truth from which it has departed.

Kenyan Pastor David Muriithi leads an upscale congregation called House of Grace. Though he avoids Word-Faith and Health-and-Wealth teaching, he says the word prosperity needs clarifying. He told Christianity Today, "People have a shallow definition of prosperity. It is a very big word. It is not just about money; it is about a whole life. You can have a million dollars, but if you are sick and dying or your marriage is falling apart, is that prosperity? Proper teaching about prosperity leads to transformation.”

There is a deep need for discernment when it comes to prosperity teaching. While some demand jet planes from God, others simply teach believers to trust in God’s provision for basic needs. In villages in India, believers pray for healthy cows and God answers their prayers. J. Lee Grady, editor of Charisma magazine, says, "When you look deeper, you see God moving in the details and in spite of the greed of certain individuals."

Truth be told, the Bible often speaks of material blessing and physical health as rewards for faithfulness to God. Abraham, Joseph, Job and David were blessed with riches, wealth and power. We are spiritual descendants of kings, rulers and rich men. Clearly, money and spirituality are not at odds with each other. What troubles the critics, however, is the idea that we can demand, purchase or claim blessings by financial offerings and faith confessions. Most begin by saying that prosperity teaching is half right. Its true that God is generous and wants us to enjoy the material world, which He declared to be good. But there is growing concern that God is being reduced to a cosmic genie, a celestial ATM. Ben Philips, a theology professor at the Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, told TIME Magazine, “God becomes a means to an end, not the end in himself". We seek His hand at the expense of His face.

As a matter of deeper concern, prosperity teaching seems to have under-taught the role of suffering to conform us into the likeness of Christ; and over-taught the blessings of health and wealth as a sign of God’s favor. The natural outcome is that believers are unable to deal with the harsh realities of debt, sickness or death. Even prosperity teachers are unable to deal with people who don’t get healed, heaping guilt on their troubled souls with accusations of weak faith and secret sin. Its this imbalance in theology that is most troubling to the critics. The teaching is accused of giving attention to “prosperity passages” at the expense of deeper and more substantial teaching on suffering, death, temptation and the dangers of worldly wealth.

Former televangelist Jim Bakker, convicted of fraud in 1989, was a prosperity teacher who realized the error in his method and message. In his book, I Was Wrong, he says, "The more I studied the Bible, however, I had to admit that the prosperity message did not line up with the tenor of Scripture. My heart was crushed to think that I led so many people astray. I was appalled that I could have been so wrong, and I was deeply grateful that God had not struck me dead as a false prophet! How could I have taught and even written books on the subject of 'how to get rich' when Jesus spoke so clearly about the dangers of earthly riches?"

Other more obvious concerns relate to financial management and responsibility. There is a disturbing divide between the lifestyles of prosperity teachers and the ones who feed their prosperity. The LA times reported that “lower-income, rural Americans, are among TBN's most faithful donors. The popular Christian television network says that 70% of its contributions are in amounts less than $50. Those small gifts underwrite a lifestyle that most of the ministry's supporters can only dream about. Yet, devoted viewers say the ministry has nothing to apologize for. In fact, the ministry's material success is part of its appeal to believers - proof that the ministry enjoys God's favor."

Creflo Dollar, who regularly reaches Indians on GOD TV, has been preaching prosperity for more than 20 years. He is reported to own a multimillion dollar home in Atlanta, a $2.5 million apartment in Manhattan's Time Warner Center, a private jet and two Rolls Royces. Dollar claims that his wealth comes from the sale of books and inspirational tapes, not from church donations. Whether that’s true or not, his wealth in itself is not of primary concern. In fact, it might fade in comparison to that of David, Joseph or Job. But in a cynical age like ours, it simply doesn’t go unnoticed. Milmon Harrison, author of the book Righteous Riches, says that “Outsiders often see it as another form of the church abusing people so ministers could make money."

Financial integrity is the litmus test of an authentic ministry. Without accountability and transparency, even the good ones tend to go bad. The Bible tells us not to muzzle an ox while he is treading the grain. But perhaps we must be diligent to ensure that the ox isn't gorging itself on grain that belongs to the hungry.

Each year, in the United States, MinistryWatch.com produces a list of 30 ministries that engage in questionable practices that should cause donors to pause before giving. Some of the high profile names blacklisted by the group are the aforementioned Kenneth Copeland, Creflo Dollar, Benny Hinn, Bishop Eddie Long and Joel Osteen. India would be wise to be aware of this initiative, and even perhaps to imitate it in our nation. Our lawyers, accountants and technical gurus need to step up to the call to hold our teachers accountable and protect the interests of the poor and the misguided. Transparency gives greater credibility to the Gospel and it is something to be pursued and encouraged. The call to be blameless has never been more critical.

In India, particularly, prosperity teaching takes on a different twist entirely. There is a sense of hero-worship that is seared into the spirits of our nation. Sachin Tendulkar and Rajnikanth enjoy god-like adulation from their fans. Much like the people in Lystra, who regarded Paul and Barnabus as gods, there is a danger for teachers in India to be regarded as Christian god-men. When evangelists and preachers are adored by their fans and protected by their followers, it should concern us all, given the harsh realities of pride, temptation and the sinful nature.

Jesus warned His disciples of people who heal diseases and cast out demons in His Name. We are told that, in spite of their heroics, they won’t have a place in the kingdom because their lives had no place for the King. The New Testament warns us to be discerning of people who peddle the word of God for profit. Indian believers need to move from standing in awe of its teachers, to imitating the boldness of the Bereans. Christians will do well to love God’s word so much that they are not afraid to search the scriptures and question their teachers, even if they be as popular as Paul.

Prosperity is truly promised to those who are faithful to God. But our understanding of prosperity will need to be informed by the testimony of scripture and not by the growing consumerism and materialism that is plaguing the world and the church today. The promise of prosperity teaching is its implicit faith in God’s provision. However, its serious neglect of suffering, transparency, and financial accountability could demand a price that even prosperity teachers might struggle to pay. Perhaps if our hearts and minds are set on things above, we will experience eternal life below, with or without a Rolls Royce in the garage.

Published in Christian Trends Magazine

Talking Trash: Delhi is in Denial

2011-11-07T12:22:00.000+05:30

Our trash is testifying against us. New Delhi dumps more garbage than any other city in the nation, producing nearly 8000 tones of solid waste every day. Next year, we’ll be dumping 10,000 tonnes - enough to fill up the world's largest aircraft, the Anatov An-225, seventeen times over. But we don't have a fleet of Anatovs just lying around the Delhi tarmac. Instead, we have three landfills (already beyond capacity), a multitude of waste-pickers without a voice, and a lethargic citizenship with a superiority complex.

Lets begin with the landfills. According to Business Week, Delhi is eleventh among the biggest garbage dumps in the world. In January 2011, the Hindustan Times reported that the existing landfills - Ghazipur, Bhalswa-Jehangirpuri and Okhla - may have to be sealed soon and approval for a new one is caught in litigation. "We may soon have a situation where there will be no place to dump the city's garbage," said an MCD official. More pertinently, Deep Mathur, MCD's press and information director says, "We dump more garbage than ever, but we haven't added a single landfill site in 25 years". In 2010 a report was submitted to the Delhi High Court, slamming the government for dumping garbage in an unscientific manner in already over-used landfills, posing serious health risks. It stated that the waste is being dumped without being treated and methane generation in the uncovered waste piles is igniting smoldering surface fires.

But there are those who think that the solution goes beyond merely developing more landfills. Mr. Ravi Agarwal, from Srishti, a Delhi based NGO says, "The solution to garbage problem does not depend on high tech machinery. There are safer, less polluting, and cheaper alternatives available - like composting and recycling - which not only take care of the problem but also generate employment. We just have to stop thinking of trash as an engineering problem. It's really an organizational issue." The trouble is that we don't have a regulated system of garbage disposal. The New York Times reported that more than 95 percent of New Delhi has no formal system of house-to-house garbage collection. It inevitably falls to the city's ragpickers - one of India's poorest and most marginalized groups - to provide this basic service. In return, they are compelled to live in abject poverty under the weight of elitist supremacy - regarded without value, worth or human dignity.

That brings us to what happens to our trash when we hand it over to the friendly neighborhood, kudawala. Once the trash hits the street, its open game. Delhi is home to an invisible army of rag-pickers, close to 200,000 of them. These accidental environmentalists work unnoticed, often late into the night, searching and sorting through our trash for anything that can be sold to wholesalers and shopkeepers. After that, these dealers sell the stuff to large-scale wholesalers, mostly in Ajmeri Gate and Patel Nagar, who buy their trash in bulk. From here, the waste is sent to factories where it is processed and recycled. For every hundred residents of Delhi, there is one person engaged in recycling.

A rag-picker in Delhi can make anywhere between 100 to 500 rupees a day, sometimes more, even though they save 6-8 lakhs for the MCD, every single day, by removing 1200-1500 Tonnes from the structured chain of garbage dispoal. But this work is done in a completely unhygienic and unscientific manner, with alarming environmental, occupational and community health implications. Kalpana Sharma, a writer for the Hindu, say that rag-pickers play a crucial role in dealing with the crisis of waste, risking their lives and their health every single day. She also reports that 85 percent of rag-pickers in Mumbai are women; and that 90 per cent of women rag-pickers are the primary bread-winners, often widowed or deserted. Indian recycling thrives on the efforts of the poor and the marginalized.

Surekha Sule, a freelance journalist and environmentalist, reported that eleven rag-picking women in Mumbai had the opportunity to tell their stories to a tribunal, chaired by Justice (Retd) S.D. Pandit. One of them said, "A rag-picker is not respected by society. We work in filth, garbage bins and dumping ground from morning to evening. We have no water or other sanitary facilities on the dumping ground or in our community. We smell of dirt. Nobody from the society likes to touch us or give us respect and dignity. They call us dirty - even worse than garbage itself. Our boys do not go to school and are unemployed. Husbands beat us and quarrel with us. Children watch that and behave in the same manner. Girls go to school only up to the 7th standard. We get them married when they are 12 or 13 because we are worried about the surroundings and their future."

Delhi's rag-pickers have been demanding recognition for a long time. In 2007, responding to the ragpicker's union, the government equipped six thousand of them with gloves, boots and aprons. But it left them feeling shortchanged because what they really want is wages, social security, pensions, health care, education for their children, decent housing and uniforms, which they hope will discourage police harassment. Rag-pickers have been working in dire circumstances for decades, while Delhi remains in denial.

Since the MCD privatized the collection of garbage, ragpickers face increased harassment, despite the significance of their efforts. The Hindu reported that even though the contracts that the MCD has signed with private companies for garbage collection clearly state that the contractors involve rag pickers working in the area, there simply isn’t enough monitoring to ensure the protection of their rights. The simplest solution would be to integrate ragpickers into the process of garbage disposal, giving them a sense of security, stability and dignity. The Hindu also reported that Pune and Mumbai have given the rag pickers a place to segregate the waste. They have also helped them form a cooperative.

But the problem is much larger in its scope. This pattern of injustice is simply a visible demonstration of the global inequality in the distribution of wealth. There is enough money in the world to provide every single human being with proper shelter, basic facilities and the right to a dignified way of living. The recent outcry against the rich, embodied in the Occupy Wall Street movement, bemoans the fact that the distribution of wealth among the many is concentrated in the greedy hands of the few. The same is true in our city. We must refuse to believe that there isn’t enough money to protect the rights of the ragpickers. Too much of our wealth has been stolen by the invisible hands of a system that is corrupt, through and through. The plight of the ragpickers is one among many ongoing humanitarian crises in the city, that require as much attention from Dilliwalas, the media and the government, as the larger issues of garbage disposal.

Finally, beyond the problem of overused landfills and unrecognized rag-pickers, lies the problem of an indifferent citizenship who draw an unjust line between the home and the street - between us and them. Somehow saddi dilli doesn't seem to evoke as much of a sense of ownership among its citizens, where the most basic rules of maintaining public spaces are routinely flouted. More than any other city in India, New Delhi receives state resources towards civic facilities and cleanliness. However, this doesn't seem to affect the way citizens regularly break rules, steal public property and urinate or litter in public spaces.

In a compelling argument that seeks to explain filth in the public sphere in India, political theorist Sudipta Kaviraj compares the historical development of the notion of the ‘public’ in the West and in India. He points out that the concept of the public sphere as distinct but linked to the private, historically developed in the West since the 18th century. In India, however, there existed the notion of the ‘home’ and the ‘outside’, instead of the ‘public’. He says this is primarily due to the persistence and pervasiveness of caste as the principle that orders society. In a caste ordered society, the space outside individual homes and spheres of existence is not a common public space but is essentially the site of pollution that belongs to no one.

In a caste-ordered society, it is believed that the purity of the upper castes must be preserved, either by minimizing interaction with the lower castes or by relegating them to degrading occupations. A high-caste citizen will always be purer than the sweeper unless he defiles himself in some extraordinary way. On the contrary, a sweeper born of sweeper parents is considered to be born inherently polluted. The involvement of sweepers with cleaning filth, such as human feces, relegates them to a low-status position at the bottom of the caste hierarchy. This is especially ironic, given that their services allow high-caste people to maintain their ritual purity.

Two JNU students illustrate the out workings of a caste-ordered society that separates the home from the outside world. One observed that students from outside the caste system - tribals or foreigners - wouldn't hesitate to manually remove dirt or garbage that came their way in common spaces like corridors, bathing stalls or toilets. But for students from mainstream Indian society who have lived in the worldview of a caste structured society, garbage would be tolerated until it is dealt with by employed cleaners, who inevitably come from lower caste groups.

Another student recounts an incident in one of the hostels in JNU in the late 1990s. Many residents got together to complain against a particular student who used the toilet facility but refused to flush the excreta. It inconvenienced the students as well as the sweepers who failed to see any rationale in that deliberate act of defiance. When questioned by the provost, the unapologetic student said that it was not his duty to flush his waste as he belonged to an upper caste. In another case, despite the water crisis, some students kept throwing water even in clean toilets. The perception is that if the toilets were used by a lower caste person, it needs to be thoroughly cleansed.

We don't seem to have learnt that stewardship of a clean city lies with its residents and not with those who render their services for the unpleasant job. The capital needs a breed of citizens that take ownership of their town and move from passivity to participation and partnership. A community in Greater Kailash, Capital City Church, recently chose to demonstrate active participation in greener ways of living that include, but are not limited to, refusing plastic bags, using energy efficient light bulbs, advocating for more garbage bins in the neighborhood, partnering with local RWA for proper disposal of garbage, growing more plants and herbs, using water sparingly, using public transport and carpooling, disposing of electronic devices properly and changing gadgets only when necessary.

It seems unfair to harass the government for better solutions, when it comes at the cost of our own responsibility to make better use of our resources, advocate for the rights of the voiceless, and restore dignity to human beings, regardless of their place in society. There continues to be more garbage in the city than our landfills can manage. Rag-pickers continue to risk their lives to rummage through our trash looking for their treasure. Caste inhibitions continue to shackle the mindset and attitudes of citizens in both rural and urban environments. But we cannot begin to imagine a cleaner city, unless we overcome the distinction between us and them; unless we take ownership of what belongs to us at home and in public spaces. Only a people who work hard for a greener city will have the privilege of living in one.

Contributing Writers:
Akshay Rajkumar
Sanjeevni Badigar
Rachna Mehra
Sharon Abraham
Jonathan Abraham

Revival is better than Revolution

2011-10-03T01:36:00.001+05:30

It began in the space between the World cup and the IPL. Anna Hazare, a former driver with the Indian army, said he was ready to sacrifice his life to end corruption in the country. A fast unto death was empowered by sensationalist media, celebrities on twitter, and a restless middle-class, eager to imitate the Egyptians.

In its most appealing form, Hazare wants an independent body to investigate and prosecute the corrupt even if they be among the most powerful people in the country. In its most sinister form, as Pratap Bhanu Mehta, a columnist for the Indian Express, says in his critique of the bill, that it amounts to “an unparalleled concentration of power in one institution that will literally be able to summon any institution and command any kind of police, judicial and investigative power.” To its critics, a power above all powers wouldn’t cure us of corruption; it would eventually serve to deepen the degradation.

But this was only the beginning.

In early May, Yoga guru Baba Ramdev wrote a letter to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh ahead of a proposed fast, demanding that he take appropriate steps against black money and corruption. Somewhat ironically, Ramdev admits that he has amassed a fortune of over Rs 1100 crore in a few years. Its reported that he wasn’t too pleased when urged to seek proof that his donations were not from black money. As of now, more than one hundred thousand people like Baba Ramdev’s page on Facebook.

However, its fair to say that the popularity of these self-styled revolutionaries has grown largely because of the way Indians feel about corruption in the country, not so much an acute awareness of Hazare’s demands. With the nightmarish Commonwealth Games and the 2G scandal fresh in their minds, Indians were angry and Anna Hazare gave them something to do with their anger - even if most people hadn’t a clue about what he really wanted.

Hartosh Singh Bal, in an article in OPEN Magazine says, “Anna Hazare and Ramdev are only symptoms of an anger at the series of scams that have become public over the past two years. The support that either of them has gathered is a manifestation of that anger, not a proof of their sincerity or the suitability of their methods. In fact, the focus on personalities is blinding us to the kind of politics manifest in the people supporting them.”

That fasting is the chosen technique of protest has even drawn absurd comparisons to the father of the nation, forgetting that while Gandhi fasted against an oppressive foreign power, unwilling to listen; our self-appointed spokesmen of the nation have taken their stand against an elected government. Srinath Perur, in his summary of Gandhi’s way of fasting in OPEN Magazine, points out “We also know that Gandhi did not want a spectacle created around fasting. He wrote…, ‘Fasting by you, if it comes, must not take place on the public road. It must be in a house or a hut. There can be no public exhibition of you, whilst you are under fast.’”

Ultimately, in all this muddle of empty stomachs and hollow rhetoric, we seem to be missing something obvious. The loudest voice against corruption doesn’t make it the best one. A corrupt system can’t be redeemed by another system, equally vulnerable to corruption. The quickest way to justice is not by the road to revolt. Most pertinently, our nation’s troubles, which are more than merely corruption, demand active participation from passive citizens.

The unsavory truth is that India isn’t merely crippled by a corrupt government. Its crippled by a corrupt citizenship. According to a global survey by Transparency International (TI), around 54% Indians paid a bribe in 2010, which pegs the extent of corruption in India at levels comparable with Cambodia, Nigeria, Afghanistan, Senegal, Uganda and Liberia. The Guardian presented a report which measured corruption in countries on a scale of one to ten, where ten was the least corrupt. India was rated 3.3, placing it below Cuba, Colombia and Thailand.

India also suffers from inverse corruption. We’re not a very generous people. The Wall Street Journal reported that the rich in India give between 1.5% and 3% of their household income annually to philanthropy, less than their counterparts in the United States, who give an average of 9 percent. Our lack of giving is particularly troubling because India’s huge increases in wealth are accompanied by enormous social problems, which make an increase in giving, essential for the health of the nation. Government alone cannot bridge the divide.

The tragedy of our story is that a corrupt people are revolting against a corrupt government. Its ironic that we want our leaders to be what we are not prepared to be ourselves. Given the opportunity, facing the need, most of us who light candles against corruption wouldn’t hesitate to make a donation for a child’s admission into college, reject our relatives over a property dispute, deceive our friends to get ahead in the corporate game, cheat our partners out of their share of the profits, buy products without bills to skip the taxes, and throw our litter on the streets while we’re walking.

India is comfortable with favors. We trade them to further our futures - and of those who belong to our kin. If it comes at the cost of bending, stretching and twisting the written rules, its a price we’re willing to pay. In urban Indian sensibilities, good intentions write their own laws. If its for the good of ourselves and of our children, we’ll bribe the principal, doctor the financials, betray our brothers and complete our trading in black. It remains plainly evident that as long as our outcry against corruption is peopled by the corrupt, we’re simply throwing stones from a house made of glass.

We need an alternative to revolution.
We need an education in revival.

Revival is better than revolution because while one rages against the sins of its enemies, the other is appalled by the nature of its own transgressions. Revival is better than revolution because it always chooses confession over aggression. In a day like today and a time such as this, to be a Christian in India is to be a people of revival, rewriting the history of our nation by writing better stories with our prayers and our lives.

Our prayers reflect our passions. Our nation is neglected by prayers that are limited to the pews in our churches and the prosperity of our homes. But a people that prays for the nation will be a people that see divine intervention. In the book of Nehemiah, a single man received the gift of God’s anguish over the needs of his nation. Unlike our much-publicized, would-be reformers, this national hero in his own right, responded to the cry of his country in a way that we might be wise to imitate. He sat down, wept, mourned, fasted and prayed before the God of heaven.

Nothing significant ever begins without prayer. If our nation is to see revival, it will begin with people who pray with anguish. Perhaps when our fasting is restricted to purposes that are limited to personal and communal needs, as important as they might be, we dismiss the limitless possibilities of a God who cares for the nations. When our hearts grow to bear the burden of the needs of our nation, we will begin to step into the dimension of faith where our prayers affect the course of this great country.

Furthermore, in the letter to the Hebrews, the heroes of faith in the hall of fame, are ordinary people who recognized that they were aliens and strangers on earth. The writer says that people who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. These heroes were longing for a better country - a heavenly one - and to their longing, the promise is given that God has already prepared a city for them.

All that we strive for in this nation, all of our castles and crowns - they have a glory that is fading, in the light of a city that is still to come. Oh, to live in a nation that can see the coming kingdom. Perhaps if our eyes were fixed on the country to come, we wouldn’t need to be corrupt in this one. Our country couldn’t be the same if it were peopled by citizens who are willing to start a revolution at home - to pray with anguish for the nation and fast with penitence in our hearts; who demonstrate compassion for our cities, justice in our affairs, truth in our accounts, and grace on our streets. India doesn’t need new government, systems or leadership. India needs new citizens. When our nation has seen revival, we won’t feel the need to seek revolution.

Daily Dying

2011-09-12T10:24:00.002+05:30

in silence still,
and morning new,
a life will end in death.
it craves unseen, eternal things
more than treasure, riches, wealth.
in its body, it is buried,
in a grave, it comes to rest
for until the seed has fallen,
it is a sword without a quest

Waking up Volcanoes

2011-09-12T10:23:00.002+05:30

all bottled up,
undone, peculiar
we’re familiar with this refrain
its written in the song of the sinner
and fresh in the mind of the saints
we dwell in the restless derision
of another forgettable day
until the moon redeems the unspoken
oh, sing us a new song today

The Girl is Gone

2011-09-12T10:17:00.002+05:30

I searched for beauty in the temple
the ark, the robes, the gold
I asked the priest if he had seen her face,
if he had dined with her at home
If ever in eager morning, his spirit soared into the sky,
to fly with kites in early august,
and kiss her gently in the night
Its dry inside the temple
She lives no longer here
She was ravaged by marauders,
who took the virgin to their tent
In the city she was captive,
abused, reviled, reformed
She was with us in forgotten times
but we sold her for a lie

The Truth about the Vows

2011-06-29T12:40:00.002+05:30

India’s low divorce rates are shooting for the sky. Our nation is among the countries with the lowest rates of divorce in the world. But in the last five years alone, there’s been a 100 per cent increase in divorce in India. BBC’s Mark Dummet says, “Most of those splitting up are members of India’s thriving, urban middle class whose lives have been transformed by India’s boom, and whose aspirations are radically different to those of their parents and grandparents.”

Another report says that couples in the 25-35 age group accounted for 70 per cent of the cases, and 85 per cent of them were filed in the first three years of marriage. Earlier, cruelty, desertion and harassment used to account for two out of three cases. But more recently, compatibility has been cited in a majority of the cases. Most of the cases this year have been filed by younger couples, who mostly complain of problems relating to attitudes while filing for divorce.

In 2006, it was recorded that 1,246 cases of divorce in Bangalore pertain to the IT sector exclusively. Delhi doubled its rate of divorce in the last five years and even agriculture-driven states like Punjab and Haryana have seen divorce rates rise by more than 150 per cent in the last decade. During the same time, Kerala, known to be the most literate state, experienced a 350 per cent increase in divorce rates.

Some of these statistics can be misleading because it seems to suggest that because divorce is rising, there’s an imminent threat to the sanctity of marriage. But this view, somewhat naively, assumes that there was any sanctity to begin with. A patriarchal culture that frowns upon divorce can very cleverly disguise alcoholism, abuse, infidelity, and just plain loveless indifference.

India needs to revisit its relationship with marriage.

At the risk of being too simplistic, we get married in India for the same reason we do everything else in India - because we have to. We have to study. We have to get a job. We have to get married. We have to have kids and we have to repeat the whole thing all over with them. Thus, we survive.

But in the last decade or so, India is awakening to strangely new urban sensibilities, economic ambitions, customized morality and the supreme goal of personal fulfillment.

Things are changing.

A woman isn’t financially bound to her husband and feels free to walk out on him if he can’t accept her high-powered career, without expecting her to keep the house as clean as his mother did for him. A man isn’t restricted by his commitment to his wife if there’s another woman at work who gives him the kind of respect that he can’t seem to find at home. Where there is neither love nor respect, odds are, there will be deadness or divorce.

Mark Dummet says, “Nowhere represents those changes better than Gurgaon, which only two decades ago was little more than a village. Its buffalos and mustard fields have now made way for shopping malls, coffee shops and multi-national IT companies. A state-of-the-art metro line connecting Gurgaon with Delhi, 25km (16 miles) away, was only recently opened. And while millions of Indians might aspire to live in Gurgaon’s high-rise apartment blocks, they are populated by many unhappy couples.”

Its not out of order to speak of God in the context of marriage.

In the Jesus way of looking at things, God is the groom and we are His bride.

Marriage was never meant to be about personal fulfillment, procreation, growing a genealogy, sustaining healthy community or keeping up social appearances - even though its been reduced to all those things at one time or another.

We’re married so we can become more like God.

My wife and I are newlyweds.

But nothing could have prepared us for the changes that marriage demands. We jumped into the heart of the sea and though its thrilling to be in the water, sometimes it feels like the current is bit too strong. What keeps us going is the common conviction that marriage is for us, but its not about us. Its divine in its nature because its making us less like ourselves and more like the One who brought us together - so we can create a destiny that serves His purpose in our time.

We’re discovering that conflict is woven into the fabric of intimacy. We’re learning that if we’re going to be one, we have to embrace the reality of conflict and answer its call to change. Evidently, conflict isn’t a good thing or a bad thing. Its a real thing. Even perhaps a necessary thing for true intimacy.

Conflict has the power to be destructive or redemptive. It can tear two people apart or it can challenge them to die to themselves and find true life in a unique oneness. My wife and I respond to conflict in different ways. I run away from it and she runs towards it. She tears up and I get angry. She needs to feel loved and I want to be respected. My wife puts it in simpler terms, “We’re both idiots and we know it”. Eventually though, conflict loses its power over us when we make the choice to change.

Perhaps when we reduce marriage to less than a way for God to gently melt our character and slowly build us into His likeness, it leaves us feeling shortchanged and unprepared for the journey because we had a different destination in mind. But when marriage is embraced and welcomed with a Jesus way of looking at things, it not only becomes a safeguard against the statistics - it even rises to become what you always hoped it would be - it becomes your home away from Home.

India needs to get married because it wants to - not because it has to.

To be married is to promise to change,

till death says you’ve done enough.

Dreaming of a New Delhi

2011-06-22T11:17:00.009+05:30

Revival is better than Revolution

It started in the space between the World cup and the IPL. Anna Hazare, a former driver with the Indian army, said he was ready to sacrifice his life to end corruption in the country. A fast unto death was empowered by celebrities on twitter, missed calls to a number, overwhelming media attention and a restless middle-class, eager to imitate the Egyptians. Its exactly the kind of revolution that most of us wanted. All the thrill of a revolt against the system, but none of the risk.

In its most appealing form, Hazare wants an independent body to investigate and prosecute the most powerful people in the country. In its most sinister form, as Pratap Bhanu Mehta puts it, the bill amounts to "an unparalleled concentration of power in one institution that will literally be able to summon any institution and command any kind of police, judicial and investigative power." However, its fair to say that Hazare's popularity has grown largely because of the way Indians feel about corruption in the country, not so much an acute awareness of Hazare's demands. With the nightmarish Commonwealth Games and the 2G scandal fresh in their minds, Indians were angry and Anna Hazare gave them something to do with their anger - even if most people hadn't a clue about what he really wanted.

Hartosh Singh Bal says, "Anna Hazare and Ramdev are only symptoms of an anger at the series of scams that have become public over the past two years. The support that either of them has gathered is a manifestation of that anger, not a proof of their sincerity or the suitability of their methods. In fact, the focus on personalities is blinding us to the kind of politics manifest in the people supporting them."

Months after the fast unto death, the battle rages on between government and revolutionary. But we're Indians and we like our drama. And there was more to come.

In early May, Yoga guru Baba Ramdev wrote a letter to Prime Minister Manmohan Singh ahead of a proposed fast, demanding that he bring back black money deposited in Swiss banks, revealing account-holders’ names and banning high-denomination currency. In his letter, the yoga guru gave an an ultimatum of one week to the Prime Minister for taking appropriate steps against black money and corruption. Somewhat ironically, Ramdev admits that he has amassed a fortune of over Rs 1100 crore in a few years. Its reported that he was not too pleased when asked to verify the trail of funds received by donations and when urged to seek proof that they are not black money. As of now, more than one hundred thousand people like Baba Ramdev's Facebook page.

A person who fasts is no more a Gandhi than a tailor is a fashion designer, because they both happen to employ the use of string. We have gone from the age of the mature, humble and sacrificial plea for social change, to the emotional rants of suspiciously self-styled avatars of a pseudo-revolution.

Fasting is a double-edged sword. It can be used to inspire people to reflection, introspection and even social change; and it can be used as emotional blackmail. But its become clear in our pseudo-revolutions in India, that the only fasts which make a difference are the ones that catch the media’s attention and take the ratings through the roof.

I suspect that only a few urban revolutionaries are aware of Manipuri human rights activist, Irom Sharmila, who has been on fast for the last ten years, demanding revocation of the Armed Forces Special Powers Act that empowers the security forces to shoot anybody on sight, suspected (not proved) of terrorist activities. Add to that, the month-long hunger strike by Medha Patkar in protest against the eviction of slum-dwellers in Mumbai.

Srinath Perur says, “Gandhi’s first use of the fast for a larger cause came during the 1918 Ahmedabad mill-hands’ strike. Some of the workers were reluctant to take up manual labour during the strike, and said they were starving. Gandhi started a fast to express solidarity and encourage the workers to persist with their satyagraha. The intention was expressly not to force the hand of mill-owners. A leaflet issued the next day states: ‘It is necessary to understand the motive and significance of Gandhiji’s vow to fast. The first thing to remember is that this is not intended to influence the employers...If this becomes a common practice for securing rights, it would be impossible to carry on the affairs of society.’”

There are at least two errors in our wishful revolution.
We are undermining our revolt against democracy by using the freedom that it gives us to revolt. We probably won’t hear of this form of a revolution in China because they simply don’t have that luxury. The nation has even taken measures to ban Google and Facebook.

We are equating the sickness with the person. Corruption in democracy does not mean that democracy is corrupt, despite its obvious limitations. We need a cure for corruption, not a new democracy, or even a revolution that undermines the democracy that gives us more freedoms than we can be thankful for.

Manu Joseph says, "That Ramdev does not agree with Anna Hazare on the crucial aspects of the Jan Lokpal, that Hazare does not agree with Ramdev, that several members of what is called civil society do not agree with each other, is precisely why there are elections in a democracy. People do not always agree with each other, so the majority gets to decide. That is why an elected representative, despite all his flaws, has a greater legitimacy than a well-meaning reformer."

Ultimately, in all this muddle of empty stomachs and hollow rhetoric, we seem to be missing something obvious. The loudest voice against corruption doesn't make it the best one. A corrupt system can't be redeemed by another one, equally vulnerable to corruption. The quickest way to justice is not by the road to revolt. Our nation's troubles, which are more than merely corruption, demand active participation from passive citizens.

India isn't merely crippled by a corrupt government. Its crippled by a corrupt citizenship.

Its ironic that we want our leaders to be what we are not prepared to be ourselves. Given the opportunity, facing the need, most of us who light candles in the city wouldn't hesitate to make a donation for a child's admission, buy products without bills to sidestep the taxes, reject our relatives over a property dispute, deceive our friends to get ahead in the rat race, cheat our partners out of their share of the profit, vandalize cars that park in public property that we’ve claimed as our own, throw our litter on the streets while we're walking.

India is comfortable with favors. We trade them to further our futures - and of those who belong to our kin. If it comes at the cost of bending, stretching and twisting the written rules, its a price we're willing to pay. In urban Indian sensibilities, good intentions write their own laws. If its for the good of ourselves and of our children, we'll bribe the principal, doctor the financials, betray our brothers and complete our trading in black.

We're cursing the fruit that grew in our own garden.

Our officials don't fall from the sky. If our leaders are corrupt, its safe to say it has something to do with the country they were raised in - the country we live in. Our children are raised to be rugged, edgy and ruthlessly competitive, because that's what we think it takes to be successful. They grow up to become what we call corrupt because that's what they think it takes to be successful.

We made our leaders who they are in government, by being comfortably apathetic about who we are at home. Our collective selfishness has nurtured the spirit of self-centeredness that breeds corruption, among a thousand other unmentionable evils. As long as our outcry against corruption is peopled by the corrupt, we're simply throwing stones from a house made of glass.

We need an alternative to revolution.
We need an education in revival.

Revolution judges its enemies with bloodshot eyes and self-righteous rage, while somehow remaining morally neutral on its own misgivings. Revival is better than revolution because while the one rages against the sins of its enemies, the other is appalled by the nature of its own crimes. Revival is a dirty word because its an outcry against corruption at home. It demands evidence of the values you want to see in others. It cries out for justice in the country, by making it tangibly visible at home.

Manu Joseph points out the irony of a midde-class revolution against corruption. He says, “In a country where governance and systems are inefficient, a bribe is often an incentive given to a person in power or cartel of powerful people to ensure that a path is cleared quickly and smoothly. It is a way of buying efficiency. A number of companies that now employ the middle-class have managed to set up and grow their businesses in India because of this incentive.”

He rightly argues that its not the middle class that is affected by corruption, as much as it is the people who have been left out of the Indian economic upsurge - an upsurge that benefits greatly from corruption. He goes on to say, “In fact, if the middle-class really wanted a revolution, all they had to do was quit the companies that were tainted in the many scams or refused their services and products. This demand is not very different from what Gandhi asked of his people during his struggle.”

Our nation needs a people who are willing to start a revolution at home - to demonstrate compassion for our cities, justice in our affairs, truth in our accounts, and grace on our streets. India doesn't need new government, systems or political leadership. India needs new citizens. When our nation has seen revival, we won't feel the need to seek revolution.

The Day Before Tomorrow

2011-06-06T10:40:00.006+05:30

Japan is a nation in turmoil. TIME magazine recently reported that the Japanese government was burdened with debt equivalent to 200% of the country's entire economic output - the highest among developed nations. Its economic problems are further inflamed by unstable leadership. In 2010, Japan had appointed six PM's in four years.

The land of the rising sun is fifth in the list of countries with the highest rate of suicide. Its unmatched technological innovation is ironically coupled with a pervading sense of loneliness, illustrated by services like the Listening Well Club. This curious phone service lets lonely people call in and discuss their problems, charging them $12 for every ten minutes of conversation. Its predicted that within a couple of decades, single person households will be the dominant demographic in Japan.

Speaking of Japan's persisting economic problems, Jeffrey Kingston, director of Asian studies at Temple University's Japan campus, said "The problem is, people really don't know what is next. Japan's huge problems are just festering and Japan remains rudderless." Then came the 9.0 quake that shook the planet so hard, it shifted on its axis and spun a little faster, shortening the day by 1.8 millionths of a second. No great feat as far as biblical history is concerned, but worthy of mention nonetheless.

Christian responses to natural disasters have always made for interesting and provocative reading. We tend to respond with unequal measures of judgment, cynicism, despair and compassion. Since the quake in Japan, an e-mail has been making the rounds building a theology of judgment on the relationship between Haggai 2:6 and the fact that different parts of the world were hit by quakes on the 26th of the month.

The usual rants against God and His indifference to human suffering will be repeated; and allayed by apologists who will have to work harder than usual to defend the goodness of God to hardened skeptics, both within and outside the church. Meanwhile, christian relief organizations will ignore the philosophical musings of the skeptics, and will go into the field to repair the damage of nature’s rebellion, as best as they can. Solomon was right. There really is nothing new under the sun.

At a time like this, the church must be bold enough to ask itself two critical questions. Are we theologically prepared for the world that is to come? Are we compassionate enough for the world that is before us?

Our Today confirms His Tomorrow

A few years ago, Michael Ramsden (RZIM, Europe) spoke to students at a college in Delhi University. It was a little after the tsunami hit the Subcontinent and regions of South-East Asia. He told us of a time when he spoke at a venue, notorious for being home to hardened skeptics of religion in general, Christianity in particular. He was asked if he had ever doubted his faith when he considered the grim reality of tsunamis, earthquakes and wars.

Michael quoted Jesus saying, "nations will be in anguish and perplexity at the roaring and tossing of the sea". He pointed out the irony that nations, not captains of ships, were in turmoil. He went on to say that when he reflects on Jesus' prophetic insight into the world and considers the reality of tsunamis, earthquakes and wars, it doesn't lead him to doubt his faith; it only serves to strengthen it, because it meant that Jesus was right.

Any conversation about the crisis in the world today belongs in the context of the conversation Jesus had with His disciples in Jerusalem. A proper reading of the Gospels will help us interpret the present reality in a way that does not weaken faith, but rather dispels doubt. It will not lead us to be shocked, appalled and alarmed at the news of earthquakes, famines, floods, wars and revolutions. Rather, it will confirm in our hearts the conviction that if the world today is just the way Jesus said it would be, then the world tomorrow will also be just the way He said it will be.

The early 20th century held the promise of progress, the death of God, and the triumph of human reason. But things didn’t pan out that way at all. The US is active in two ongoing wars, neck-deep in controversy. Africa is plagued by civil wars with human casualties that can’t be numbered. Historic revolutions are surging through the Middle East. India itself has persevered through famine, floods, earthquakes and tsunamis; and nations are in turmoil because of the tossing of the seas in Japan. If its the way He said it would be, its going to be the way He said it will be. The kingdom is coming and the gates of hell will not prevail.

Compassion is better than Discussion

A few days after the earth shook the nation of Japan, an idea shook the church in North America. The message of a new book by american Pastor, Rob Bell - ‘Love Wins: A Book about Heaven, Hell and the fate of every person who ever lived' - is the subject of the latest controversy sweeping theology in America.

Even before its release, Bell's flirtation with universalism - the doctrine that all men will eventually be saved - prompted John Piper to tweet “Farewell, Rob Bell”. The book became one of the top ten tweeted topics; and besides making the cover of TIME’s Holy Week issue, Bell was also named one of TIME’s 100 most influential people in the world.

Bell makes a case for universalism most fully in one chapter, while avoiding the word, “universalist”. He has even gone on record in a sermon to say that he is not a universalist. But evidently, marketing trumps clarity in this muddle of uncertainty about what he really believes. What remains certain however, is whether love wins or not, the publisher certainly does.

Now, whatever one may believe about Bell’s view on the world to come, what becomes undeniably true is that the way we think about the world tomorrow, will considerably shape the way we live in the world today. If our hope of heaven is an escapist disembodied paradise, strewn with harps and angelic voices, we might find that the best of our attention is given to a world that is yet to come; and robbed from the world that is right in front of us.

But if our worldview is large enough to make room for creation in rebellion and open enough to embrace the mystery of suffering without overanalyzing it, we might realize that the church is not called to explain suffering, as much as it is called to engage it with compassion. We are meant to be agents who turn tomorrow’s kingdom into a reality today, preparing the world for the return of its King.

However, in the face of secular humanitarian relief efforts in conflict-ridden Africa, tsunami-struck Indonesia and quake-hit Japan, one must justly ask the question, "Does the church really have a heart?" If the church is the body of Christ and it is meant to embody the compassion of His Spirit, could it be that His spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak?

This isn’t an indictment against the church, although it might as well be one. Its simply to say that there’s a bridge-less gap between the church and the hurting. Its almost as though compassion has been outsourced to para-church organizations, disaster management teams, humanitarian efforts and government initiatives.

The fruit of this unstructured path between the agents of the kingdom and the object of suffering is such that there are those in the pew who struggle with a nagging feeling they cannot name. Its the feeling that comes when compassion is stifled by inaction. Its a quenching of the Spirit, a strangling of the soul. Its the frustration that a cricketer feels when he’s left on the bench, because there's no room for him on the team. Its the feeling of unfulfilled destiny - the sense that we are meant to be somewhere more meaningful, doing something more substantial. Its the feeling of an unanswered call to compassion.

There is a growing dissatisfaction among a minority of believers in the church who have gone beyond what the sunday morning service has to offer and yearn for a deeper engagement with global, national and personal issues that resonate with the very heart of God. But the churches they attend don’t seem to have the structure to guide them into their calling, and cynical disillusion sets in.

In his book, This Present Future, Reggie McNeal says, “A growing number of people are leaving the institutional church for a reason. They are not leaving because they have lost faith. They are leaving the church to preserve their faith”. He explains this further in an interview by saying, “There are many people who want to live out their faith. They do not want to simply keep checking in and beating their chest and rehearsing, “Yes, we believe this.” They want to make a difference in the world. They are bored and uninterested in doing the same thing over and over. Somehow the church has disconnected these people’s religious experiences from the lives they want to live by impacting the people around them for Jesus.”

In all sincerity, the Church simply doesn’t have a structure that breeds compassionate action. Inevitably, the urge to do something is snuffed out by inaction and we go on with our lives until disaster strikes again, and the cycle repeats itself. But there are more questions to be asked.

A media-infused worldview is concerned with global crisis only when its on the news. After the tsunami in 2006, Rabbi Michael Lerner said, “Two weeks ago the United Nations issued a report detailing the deaths of more than 29,000 children every single day as a result of avoidable diseases and malnutrition. Over 10 million children a year! The difference between the almost nonexistent coverage of this ongoing human-created disaster and the huge focus on the terrible tsunami-generated suffering in South East Asia reveals some deep and ugly truths about our collective self-deceptions. Imagine if every single day there were headlines in every newspaper in the world and every television show saying: '29,000 children died yesterday from preventable diseases and malnutrition.”

Its been a few thousand years since the Gospel came to India, but its fair to say that India still hasn’t seen the real Jesus. It hasn’t seen enough of the Jesus who feeds the hungry, gives a drink to the thirsty, invites the stranger, and clothes the naked.

Whether its global, national or personal, if our response to any form of suffering fails to begin with compassion, it will necessarily end in confusion. Leave alone the rest of the world; our own nation is in turmoil. Until India sees the church caring for the concerns that are at the very heart of the country, it will not recognize Christ as the Savior that its looking for. If this nation is to know the love of Christ, His body must reflect the willingness of His Spirit to be compassionate in the day before tomorrow, regardless of what dissenters might have to say.

This article was published in Christian Trends Magazine (June-July 2011)
http://ctrendsmag.com/

revisiting the church

2011-06-02T17:11:00.029+05:30

Why are we afraid of them?

Fear is at the root of too many things we do. We're afraid of the implications of an interpretation, so we reject the interpreter. We're afraid of the way a book will affect the church, so we reject the author. We're afraid of what the world will thinks about our beliefs, so we keep them to ourselves. We're afraid of the consequences of taking public stands, so we practice our faith in private.

This is not an indictment. Its a confession. But I'll get to that later.

The greek word for church is ekklesia. Its a word that knows nothing about concrete, mortar, building, cement, structure, organization, or institution. Its a word that means congregation or assembly of people.

Its a word with connotations of people who come out of their homes and gather together, on purpose. Its been said to have legislative connotations, so much so that its closest relative in the Indian culture is the panchayat. The church is a people who live out decisions that impact culture, society and community, for the good of the people.

Some of us, for all of us.

In urban India, fear has turned the church into a secret society. Its the safest context in which we can live out our faith - without the fears of rejection, opposition, criticism or skepticism. As long as we're inside, we can't get hurt by the outsider. As long as we're quiet, we won't be rejected by the skeptic. Its comfortable and its convenient, but it seems a little short of christian.

This is not an indictment. Its a confession.

Reading the letters in the Bible, it seems that the church in the first century was more comfortable with words like brothers, sisters, apostles and servants, to address the people of faith, because it was obvious to them that the church was a relational community, not a collection of bricks. The world in the first century seems to have developed and used the word christian, in a way that mocked people who had chosen to live for a dead man, preaching the preposterous idea that he had risen from the dead in bodily form.

The early christians were oddly structured without an institution, resolutely devoted without fear, and genuinely compassionate without inhibition. Rodney Stark, sociologist at the University of Washington, points out that when a major plague hit the ancient Roman Empire, "Christians had surprisingly high survival rates. Most Roman citizens would banish any plague-stricken person from their household. But because Christians had no fear of death, they nursed their sick instead of throwing them out on the streets. Therefore, many Christians survived the plague."

Acts tells us about the life of the early church and its dependence on the presence and the power of the Spirit of God. The early church was devoted to prayer. It lived and breathed in the reality of dependence. There were no political connections, friends in high places, people of influence and access to positions of power. On pain of death, their eyes were fixed on things supernatural. I wonder if its a biblical reality, that where there is no prayer, there will be no power.

When opposed, they prayed for boldness. When persecuted, they persevered. When arrested, they obliged. When released from prison, they refused to leave in the hope of a better resurrection. There was a dogged determination in the spirits of the early martyrs that's been lost in urban, modern, post-modern, post-christian, culturally progressive, technologically advanced, self-determining societies all over the world. Perhaps, we're less influential than we were meant to be, because we're more independent than we were made to be.

The early church had a thriving communal supernatural way of life. God was God and He moved freely because people depended on Him. They were devoted to Him and they were raptured, enthralled, overtaken and consumed by His beauty, holiness and wisdom. He was larger than life, greater than Caesar, more treasured than riches and worthy of martyrdom.

We've become smarter, more talented, more gifted and more capable that our spiritual ancestors. But in the bargain, we've become less prayerful, less compassionate and less devoted than we're meant to be. We were made in His image, and we've promptly returned the favor. We want a God we can control, a church that is predictable, a calling that is comfortable and a faith that submits to our preferences.

This is a confession.

I'm afraid of people, often to the point of paralysis. The fear of man has more of a hold on me than the fear of God. It works itself out in ways that I'm not bold enough to discuss, disclose or divulge. And at the same time, I think we've all lost a sense of what it really means to fear God and to be enveloped in His power, refreshed by His revelation and released into works of redemption, reconciliation and restoration.

For that reason, I don't think anyone is above the church and its alleged shortcomings. In fact, I think I embody the church and its failings, but I also believe that something is stirring in the spirits of people in and outside the church. We're asking piercing questions about what its meant to look like when a people come out of their homes to gather together, on purpose. Its an exciting conversation with a lot of promise, but until we begin with confession, we don't have a hope in hell for redemption.

Hotter than Hell

2011-05-31T12:34:00.009+05:30

Light is better than Heat

I've been reflecting on the ongoing debate on the nature of hell. Rob Bell has suggested that people can be reconciled to God, even after they die. Evangelicals are angry. Believers are confused. People are getting tired. Its all slowly going south.

A few things are of concern to me, even though I could be wrong.

Our opinions matter to us more than people matter to us. There is an aversion to argument because it brings out the worst in people. The idea of eternal conscious torment is offensive to people, and it really is the starting point for many people who choose to sidestep orthodoxy. There is an ill-fated attempt to demystify the mysterious. There is a subtle bitterness that informs the belief of people who've been hurt by the church.

Francis Chan is writing a book about hell. In a plea for prayer, he urgently reminds us that we can't be heartless in the debate. We're talking about real people and their destiny in the after life. This is not an intellectual, theological or philosophical question. Its a personal question and if we speak about it without compassion in our hearts, we're undermining the very message of the Gospel we're trying to uphold.

Jesus was engaged in conflict with his opponents throughout the Gospels. Paul reasoned with the Jews from the Old Testament to show that Christ was the promised Messiah. The writers of the New Testament penned many of their letters to correct the heresies invading the early church. Paul tells Timothy to watch his life and doctrine closely and to persevere in them.

I'm as averse to argument as anyone else, and my aversion is evident from the fact that I write privately more than I speak openly, but I think we need to overcome our fears and make our conversation generous, healthy, friendly, respectful and honest. We don't need to change our message to make it more attractive to contemporary people. We need to change our hearts. Humility, patience and authenticity go a long way in earning the respect of our critics, even if we don't earn their favor.

We need to divorce the fact of judgment from the nature of judgment.

Regardless of whether a belief should be disregarded simply because its difficult to accept, the Bible truly doesn't say much about hell because it has to do with the nature of judgment. But it does say a lot about the fact of judgment. God is a righteous judge, and I think we can be clear that there will be a judgment that leads to final separation. Our Gospel needs to embrace that, even if its unpopular.

At the risk of oversimplification, all we are saying is that people get what they want. Jesus rebuked the Pharisees, saying, "...by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned" (Matthew 12:37). But we need to be careful before we claim absolute certainty on the nature of judgment - on what its going to look like - because we run the risk of trying to demystify the mysterious.

I think our Gospel needs to begin with the promise of new life and end with the reality of judgment. Jesus calls people to a personal repentance, which simply means turning around, from one direction to another. When we turn around, we begin a journey into a participatory Gospel, towards intimacy and partnership with God in the redemption, renewal and restoration of all things. History is moving towards the coming of the new heavens and the new earth, and a final judgment and separation.

Any emphasis on what that judgment is going to look like, though valid, needs to admit and reflect the limited scripture and diversity of interpretation on the matter. There are at least three recognized evangelical interpretations of the nature of judgment [hell] - literal, metaphorical and annihilation. I think we would do well to uphold the fact of judgment and leave the nature of judgment in the realm of mystery and uncertainty, though we can be free to lean towards an interpretation.

Most poignantly, I know too many people who've been hurt by the church.

Rigid pastors. Dogmatic preachers. Controlling elders. Arrogant leaders. Self-righteous congregants. Abusive powers. However, leadership has been perceived, experienced, judged or defined, its created a conflict in the hearts of people who have a sense of faith, but don't feel like they have a home where they can live out their faith. We're living in a day of homeless christians - people of faith without a place to call their home and a people to call their family. When we're homeless, we live on the street. We get bitter, cold and cynical, and we're drawn to people who are bitter, cold and cynical.

Truth is more distant to the bitter than it is to the broken.

For those of us who've been hurt by the church, its subtle and natural to be sympathetic to its critics, but we have to guard our minds from being swayed by every wind and wave of teaching, especially when our hearts have not been healed. True theology is lived out in community. If the community of faith remains unforgiven and we remain on the sidelines, our hearts are in danger of a theology that justifies bitterness and excuses isolation.

True theology makes life and doctrine live in harmony. For the hurting among us, forgiveness, healing and restoration is the only way to good theology because forgiveness, healing and restoration is the only true theology.

sincerely offended

2011-05-30T15:42:00.005+05:30

a value can't be wrong because its offensive.

contemporary minds find religiosity offensive. religious people find secular values offensive. the popular is not always true. the truth is not always popular. its ironic, but we're living in a day when its perfectly acceptable to be questioning, but its not alright if you have an answer. we're permitted to search everything, but we're not allowed to find anything.

catch 22?

we need to be humble and honest enough to admit that if you push a person hard enough, they'll tell you something that sounds offensive, arrogant, exclusive and elitist, to another group of people in another part of the world. its inevitable.

i don't think we'll ever live in a world in which our values are not offensive to anyone, but perhaps we can live in a world in which we are always learning to go beyond our sensibilities, constantly moving towards gentleness and respect, fervently pressing on in the pursuit of truth, even if it turns out to be offensive to our own values or someone else's beliefs.

here, now, today, whatever you believe, its offensive to someone else

but that can never be the reason that its not true.

Reaching for Resolution: My Review of Rob Bell's "Love Wins"

2011-05-28T13:45:00.005+05:30

Rob Bell really is a rock star.

Though TIME magazine is often credited with referring to Bell that way, but it was Andy Crouch, editor of Christianity Today, who said of Bell's growing popularity, "he [Rob] will remain more of a singular rock star in the church world." If that's true, the rock star just trashed a hotel and got arrested for possession.

There's a sense in which evangelicals feel betrayed by Bell's suggestion in Love Wins that God leaves the door open in the afterlife for people to choose an eternity with God, even after they refused him in this life. We’re used to getting stoned by skeptics for our ghastly beliefs about the afterlife, but when Rob joined the multitude and started pelting us with his Bible, some of us were left asking, ‘What just happened?’

It takes a while to get over the initial shock of it all and realize that Rob isn't saying anything new. We're just used to hearing it from liberals, those "floozy" theologians that like to flirt with loose ideas that make us feel insecure about our beliefs. But when the feelings fade and the words remain, its difficult to disagree with Bell because it might suggest that we agree with his critics completely.

A famed evangelical tweeted, "Farewell, Rob Bell", even before the book was released. Early reviewers sent us the message that Bell had abandoned ship and set sail for liberalism, leading captives in his train. Its this intellectual insecurity that inspires people to pick up their heretic hammers and start printing the liberal labels, making a controversial book, controversial even before its released. And, I must confess, I fell for it.

Its difficult for me because Rob Bell has been an instrumental voice in my growing passion for the person of Jesus. His vision of eternity stood in the face of the wildly popular and rather weak visions of heaven as a secret island in the sky, where we'll sit on clouds for eternity with twelve-stringed harps in our hands, singing songs with angelic voices without the risk of cracking a note. That sort of heaven would be hell for people like me.

Love Wins, shines when it places Christian hope in the reality of the age to come - the new heavens and the new earth. His voice was one of the first I heard that turned my hope from an escapist paradise to a renewed physical universe, a glorified time-space reality, where the laws of entropy do not apply. Things don't rust, spoil or get stolen. People live without lying, weeping or hurting.

Its a reality in which animals live in harmony with humanity, and bodies are as as unrecognizable as a tree is from the seed from which it came. Freedom will become real because we'll finally be bound to the law of God in our hearts, to be as we were meant to be. That's the hope we have in Jesus, and I'm grateful to people like Bell, who led me to treasure this pearl that I sold my possessions to buy.

In the book, its difficult to pin Rob Bell as a universalist - someone who believes that, one way or another, all people will eventually be reconciled to God in eternity - because he spends most of his time asking questions and offering suggestions. But even though definitions are difficult to find, there's a subtle spirit of subversion that cuts through the pages of the book, suggesting very strongly that orthodox views on the Gospel, the Cross, Hell and Salvation, are somewhat short of reality. That's where I think Rob has been weak. Really weak.

In the book, Rob’s methodology is like an untamed stallion. It runs wildly from reading the Bible metaphorically, poetically, symbolically, literally, mysteriously and creatively, in such a way that the criteria for discerning one from the others is simply that Bell says so. Mark Galli, from Christianity today, says "If there is a criterion driving these distinctions, it seems to be based on what Bell thinks contemporary people can swallow."

I'm sorry, Rob. I think you're wrong.

I don't want to believe in a final separation of humanity, but if I truly believe in love, I have to believe that God loves people enough to give them what they want, even if it is to exist apart from him. Bell wants to explore the question, "What is God really like?" But I don't think he does justice to the question by suggesting that God is any less Himself if He doesn't get His desire for all people to be saved. I don't think all people will be reconciled to God, because I don't think the "all things" passages can be read without holding them properly against the passages that suggest a finality of separation. People get what they want, so Love wins, but not in the way Rob tells us.

The idea that there will be people in hell wishing they could get out and willing to make peace with God if they had a second chance isn’t strongly supported in the Bible. No one goes to hell unless they want to, and everyone in hell would rather be miserable than submit to somebody else's will. Its their choices today that are honored in the afterlife. I truly believe that there are people who would choose to exist apart from God even if the doors of heaven are left open forever. Lewis was right. The gates of hell are shut from the inside.

But in all honesty, I didn’t find suggestions of universalism to be the most troubling bit in Love Wins. I was caught by surprise when he suggests that the Cross is a "symbol of an elemental reality." Bell wants us to move away from using "the sacrificial metaphor" that reduces the Gospel to “something just for humans”. He wants us to place our hope in a risen Christ, who "inaugurated a movement to renew, restore, and reconcile everything on earth or in heaven." I fully agree with his emphasis on the resurrection of Jesus and a cosmic view of redemption, but I don't think it needs to come at the cost of reducing the cross to a metaphor.

But there’s a lot we can learn from the controversy.

Love Wins suggests that divine judgment isn't what most of us believe it is, but many of us would have a difficult time explaining what divine judgment really is, because we've never had to think about it. We've kept it locked away in storage; and we'd all be happier if no one ever talked about it. So we must thank Rob for forcing us to investigate, articulate and explain our beliefs, especially if we really think that people's choices are going to be honored in ways that are final and irreversible. Its not enough to write him off by saying, "Hey, its not orthodoxy."

Its natural to ridicule, sideline and toss our theological stones at the rock star who's being a bad influence on children of faith. But the same generation that had rebellious rock stars also had loveless marriages and legalistic religion.

The truth is that christian witness has been so loveless, elitist, judgmental, self-righteous and relationally exclusive; it should come as no surprise that someone feels the need to tip the balance in favor of a more loving, accepting portrait of God, embodied in a church with a more welcoming witness. Bell calls us to a richer, more compelling witness and intentional partnership with God, in the restoration, redemption and reconciliation of all things; and, for that, we need to be grateful to him.

I remember the first NOOMA video I watched. It was simply called Rain. It was powerful, compelling, inspiring and soaked in creative quality. It felt like the world had changed. Christianity had a rock star, and even I felt cool because he was one of us. Watching NOOMA videos after reading Love Wins was a bit like watching cricket after the match-fixing scandal.

I had mixed feelings. I felt a little sad, dejected and somewhat disappointed, but then I watched Matthew. Its simply one of the most honest, personal, powerful, revealing and vulnerable films that Bell has ever made. Its fruit like that which tells me that I can disagree with Bell, but I can never show him the door and say that he isn't one of us anymore. Cricket survived the match-fixing scandal, and orthodoxy will survive its rebels.

I hope I haven't been too critical of Rob Bell. I hope I haven’t been too kind. Its fair to say that Bell is going to spend the rest of his life, calling people to repent and believe here, now, today because the kingdom of God is at hand. He tells people about Jesus in a way that is passionate, creative, intelligent, intentional, stylish, respectful, powerful and rich in conviction; and for that alone, orthodox believers have a lot to learn from him.

If we had more people who loved like Jesus did, maybe we wouldn't need a book to tells us that love wins. Rob has shaken orthodoxy out of its apathy, and we need to thank him for it. We can disagree with him, but we must respect him and learn from the way he tells the story of Jesus - even if he does it as a rock star.

one voice

2011-05-26T10:17:00.003+05:30

Sharing the Gospel is easier than building a bridge.

In terms of relationship, there is a gaping hole between the church and the world. Its not unfair to say that the church is hardly in the world, though the world has firmly taken root in the church, in ways that are both healthy and unhealthy.

There is a direction and a movement that drives the way christians think, act and speak in the church today. Its a motion that sees people moving from the world and into the church. Almost all christian activity revolves around bringing people into this direction of movement. Its valid and its true, but its unbalanced.

Without questioning its worth, there is another movement that needs to weigh out the balance. Its the movement from the church into the world, where christian activity revolves around believers entering "secular" spaces to engage "secular" people in ways that go beyond the secular or the christian and enter the realm of universal truth, genuine longing and transcendent beauty. Common grace, to the christian mind.

All truth is God's truth.

Everything in the Bible is true, but not everything that is true is in the Bible.

As a professing and practicing christian, I freely affirm that the world is full of truth, best discovered in its fullness, when we take the Bible to be the standard of truth, but I cannot affirm that those who do not have the Bible, do not have any knowledge or appreciation of the truth. The writer of Romans might agree.

Art, nature, film, music, sport and literature are reservoirs of truth untapped by the church because of our innate fear and inability to engage with anything we consider, "secular". When all our initiatives to engage people of other faiths begin with what we take to be true, it isolates them and becomes a one-sided conversation. If some of them began with what we all take to be true, there might be more openness and respect across the board, not to mention the affirmation that truth belongs to everyone, and anyone can take hold of it in its fullness.

I'm not a musician, so my opinion might be flawed and biased, but traditional christian music-driven initiatives of outreach encourage passive spectatorship and distance the person we want to connect with, drawing an unhealthy line between the stage and the street. Only one voice is heard, suggesting that only one voice really matters, which may rightly be regarded to be arrogant, even if it may be true.

We live in a world where people read books, watch movies, travel regularly, plug into iPods, live with addictions to social media, volunteer for humanitarian causes, and follow sports with a passion that is almost tangible, even if unhealthy. As much as we would like them to be, they are not familiar with the songs, the culture and the values of our christendom.

Off the top of my head, we need book clubs that invite people to appreciate the portrayal of humanity in literature, film societies that explore the testimony of prophets in the movies, nature walks that appreciate the wonders of an undiscovered world, open stages that welcome artists to share the stage with christians, movements that harness the power of social media, humanitarian initiatives that invite partnership with the "others", and sporting events that celebrate the spirit of competition, even if it gets ugly.

Initiatives like that will invite participation, engagement, equality and relationship, that transcend the unhealthy christian urge to convert, compel and coerce a person into intellectual agreement with a snippet of the Gospel. This is not a call to water the Gospel down. If anything, its a call to go further than we've ever gone before. Its a call to get off our theological high horses and get into the mucky waters of building relationships, in the way that God taught us to do - with two ears and one voice.

Free to Fly

2011-04-21T11:35:00.001+05:30

Freedom is better than independence.

We're free to speak to each other because we're bound by a language. We're free to understand each other, or even argue, because we assume some sort of reason. We're free to walk because of gravity, play because of rules, sing because of notes, and live because of laws.

We're only free because we're bound.

Freedom is relational. Independence is autonomy. Its anything but freedom. Independence is the assertion that we can live without submission to the will of anything or anyone else; and its better that way. "The perfect model of this kind of freedom is a person free of any kind of external restraint. It would be a man floating aimlessly in space free of any kind of external restraint yet powerless to move. If the spaceman wants to move he has to reach out and make a connection with a reality outside of himself He has to find something against which he can push off against." (Lesslie Newbigin)

It wasn't good for me to be alone. As a single man, I was independent. I lived autonomously, without much supervision or significant authority. I was free to do as I pleased without answering to anyone, but I was bound by my inability to do things that were meaningful, significant and important. I couldn't move because I was in space; independent and falsely free.

Marriage challenged my independence and offered me freedom instead. I knew that I would lose my independence when I got married, and I was right; but I didn't know that I would find my freedom. I'm blessed to be married to someone who doesn't let me sell myself short, settle for the ordinary, rest in passivity or choose comfort over calling. Its in the covenant of marriage that I've found the freedom to seek the things that I set aside in my autonomy.

I've been independent for most of my adult life, but its only since I got married, that I've been truly free.

Why It Matters that we Won

2011-04-05T11:27:00.013+05:30

Its not just a game

More than one-sixth of the world's population is passionate about a game that the rest of the world finds too long, too confusing and too complicated. No more than sixteen nations play the game. Its not recognized by the Olympics or the Commonwealth Games as a sport worthy of global inclusion. Its almost as if the game was a distant cousin to the world of mainstream sports; an anomaly among sporting passions - accepted but not understood. Its rejected and refused, but its not just a game.

After India won the world cup final for the first time in twenty eight years, government officials started falling all over each other to demonstrate their "loyalty" to the nation by doling out vulgar amounts of money on the players. This, at a time when we have more cellphones in the country than toilets. Its political, its unjust, and its questionable. But its not just a game.

Sachin Tendulkar earns $30 a minute in a country with 319 million people who live on less than a dollar a day. But ask them if they hold it against him. Indians have pinned their hopes on his shoulders for twenty one years and Virat Kohli put the perfect words to their feelings when he said, "Its about time we carried him on our shoulders".

Until this weekend, the only god in India without a temple to his name, had every feather of the game in his heavy cap except the one that really mattered. The thought of him ending his career without winning the world cup makes me cringe. It was unacceptable to the nation and, fortunately for us, the heavens agreed. When a nation conspires to will a man to win the world cup, you know that its not just a private obsession or a personal pleasure. Its a national passion, an Indian dream, but its not just a game.

But here's why it matters to me.

I'm not obsessed about cricket. To tell the truth, I'm not even a real fan of the game. The match fixing scandal in the late 90's put me off the game to the extent that I would only really follow the game online and occasionally watch a match if I heard that something vital was going on - like when we played Pakistan in the World T20 final or when Yuvraj hit six sixes in a single over. I even missed the game in which Tendulkar became the only man to score a double century in ODI's. Father, forgive me.

I'm euphoric because India winning the world cup is much more than a piece of metal being publicly violated by eleven sweaty men on television. Its the end of an era of cynicism and the dawning of a day of hope.

The Indian team has been notorious for winning games they had no right to win and losing games that a team of poodles in pink ribbons could have won. In the last two world cups, we were outplayed, outclassed and outdone by one of the greatest cricketing teams in history and then promptly knocked out by one of the lowest ranked teams in the world. Australia and Bangladesh have both had the pleasure of snatching the bread from our hands, just when we were about to bite. In all that time, there was a cynical sound in the spirit of every Indian that simply said, "I knew it! I knew we would lose."

A wise man once said, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life". Our hopes have been deferred for two decades and destiny has taunted us and teased us with the promise of triumph only to rebuke us in ways that left us wounded and scarred, cynical and bitter. But its over now.

Just when we thought that they were going to lose again, just when we began to believe that they had blown it again, we came to realize that the day of deferred hope is behind us. We are victors and the spoils belong to us. Silence the cynics, shut up the critics and resign the nagging din of the dissenters to beyond the borders of the city. We are no longer an India that grumbles. We are becoming an India that believes.

India is coming of age and something has been stirring in the nation for a very long time. We are not the team we used to be because we are not the country we used to be. It is deeply significant that it was the new Indians and not the old guard that led India to victory on Saturday.

Let the days be gone when children used to wish that they were born in America because that's where they felt they would have a better life. Let the days be gone when professionals plot their departure from the country because they feel the nation has nothing to offer to them. Let the days be gone when we walk on the streets and drive on the roads with a scowl on our face because our neighbor is not our friend. Let the country be reminded that if we could be united for a day of victory, we can be united for the rest of our days.

Dhoni has proved himself to be leadership personified. He leads with all the characteristics that come with the promise of honor. A close friend told me about the time when Dhoni returned to his school to be welcomed by a multitude of doting fans. Two women that were his teachers when he was a small child were shrinking back in a corner of the room, wondering whether he would recognize them. As soon as they caught Dhoni's eye, he rushed from the center of attention, walked up to them and touched their feet to seek their blessing as a sign of respect. Its this sort of humility that makes you wonder whether it is a spiritual law that those who walk in humility, walk in the way that leads to honor.

The arrogant pride, self-centered spirit and self-promoting garbage that gets plastered all over our televisions, politics, movies and magazines was gently rebuked by the courageous leadership of a captain who earned his crown. It is tragic that young Indians have come to believe that unless you are self-centered and soaked in swagger, you cannot be successful. Dhoni's track record of humility and honor must inspire the nation to recognize that though success comes to both the proud and the humble - significance, respect and honor come freely to those who walk in humility.

Let our politicians know that we respect only men of honor and we despise the injustice, the corruption and the vulgar misuse of power that plagues the nation from the neighborhood markets to the crooked bureaucrats that pretend to be leaders. Let our people imitate the leaders that really matter - the humility of their demeanor and the selfless courage of their decisions - and maybe then we will know the life that they know because we walk in the humility that draws honor to itself without effort.

Cricket is not just a game. India are not just champions of the world. Dhoni is not just a captain. They are shadows of a greater reality, reflections of deeper truth. Honor comes to those who are humble, life to those who are willing to die. Our nation is moving towards its destiny. Hearts are alive and India is on fire.

One Friend to Rule them All

2011-01-29T22:33:00.003+05:30

Facebook is the third largest country in the world

The buzz around the largest social network in the world is increasing since it was recently valued at $50 billion, making it worth more than the national economy of Dominican Republic. Its also the third largest country in the world, with more than 550 million people from more than 200 countries living as subjects to their cyber king, Mark Zuckerberg, who has more access to the personal lives of his citizens than most governments of the world.

More than 19 million facebookers are from India. Four out of every five of them are between the ages of 18 and 34, with more than twice as many men as women. Facebook is now the most visited website on the internet, with more than 70% of users outside the US. Even the Queen of England joined facebook in November 2010.

Facebook recently overtook Orkut to become the most popular social networking website in India, followed by Bharatstudent.com, Yahoo! Pulse and Twitter. India is fourth on a list of the fastest growing facebook countries in the world, behind the US, Indonesia and Mexico. India also ranks as the seventh largest market for social networking, with a 43 percent increase in users in one year! More than 1.5 million people signed up on facebook in just a month. One of them was my father. A futuristic son educated his father in the ways of new relational realities.

Weird.

The new docudrama, ‘The Social Network’, tells a story of the evolution of facebook, mixing fact with generous helpings of rumor, speculation and fiction. Screenwriter Aaron Sorkin told New York Magazine, “I don’t want my fidelity to be to the truth; I want it to be to storytelling". The film portrays founder, Mark Zuckerberg (who was just named TIME Magazine’s Person of the Year 2010), as a cold, socially inept genius who deceitfully sidelines his best friend on the way to becoming a billionaire. The movie, ignored and dismissed by Facebook, made Rs. 3 crores in its first week of release in India. Its made $180 millon worldwide.

So, what’s really going on?

Neil Postman once wrote that when a new technology enters the world it is not the same world with a new technology - its an entirely new world altogether. We are living in an age of unprecedented social connections and previously unimagined relational realities. Its a world that came upon us without warning; and its a world that needs to be discerned.

In March 2010, I met a stunning woman at a christian leader’s conference in New Delhi. A few weeks later, we were ‘friends on facebook’. Unobserved by free-roamers and profile-page stalkers, we exchanged private messages for months and eventually got engaged to be married. Clearly, social media is not a social evil.

On the darker side of things, TIME magazine recently reported that a Pastor in New Jersey asked 50 church employees to delete their facebook accounts or lose their jobs. He says he's personally seen more than twenty marriages crash & burn, after one partner reconnects with an old flame online. A report from the Pew Internet and American Life Project finds that at least one in five adults uses Facebook for flirting. One in five!

But this is not meant to be trite christian condemnation of the evil empire of secular social media. If we are called to be in the world and not of it, we are presumably called to be in the new world and not of it, as well. Technology is amoral. Its a good servant; but its a bad master. The question the christian needs to ask himself today is whether social media is making our relationships more transparent or secretive.

There is more emotional infidelity and sensual indulgence in the world today simply because there are more opportunities for it. There lies the burden of secrecy. On the flip side, there’s more room for soul-satisfying relationships than ever before. There lies the promise of transparency.

In the new age of constant, free, unrestrained and endless ways of meeting people in cyberspace, it becomes all the more important that we ask ourselves a simple question, “What does a healthy relationship look like?

John Wesley’s mother, Susanah, once said, “Whatever weakens your reason, impairs the tenderness of your conscience, obscures your sense of God and takes away your relish for spiritual things - in short, if anything increases the authority of the flesh over the spirit - that to you becomes sin, however innocent it may seem in itself.”

The inverse might justly be regarded as holy. If anything strengthens your reason, nurtures the sensitivity of your conscience, increases your sense of God and refreshes your relish for spiritual things - in short, if anything increases the authority of the spirit over the flesh - that to you becomes holy because all things good are rooted in God Himself.

With that in mind, what we need to ask ourselves about our relationships, online or otherwise, is whether they are making us more cynical than compassionate; more vengeful than forgiving; more misanthropic than relational; more thirsty than satisfied. I say this because Facebook makes promises that it can’t keep. Merely having a thousand friends on facebook doesn’t mean that we have meaningful relationships. There’s another book that tells us where to find that joy.

Moreover, an overindulgence in social media creates the crippling reality of relationships without reflection. Almost 50% of users log on to facebook everyday, which means that there are more people on the social network each day than the population of Pakistan. As many people as the population of France access the network through mobile devices. Instant access. Constant connection. Always online. Never out of touch.

The darker side of this new relational reality is the absence of solitude, silence and reflection. We leap before we look and speak before we think. We know everything about everyone online, but we don’t really know ourselves. We need facebook to give us a profile. A face. An identity.

Thomas Merton once wrote, “Man is not at peace with his fellow man because he is not at peace with himself. Man is not at peace with himself because he is not at peace with God.” Before we start the journey to a thousand facebook friends, it might be wise to discern what is meant by a friend. Who would’ve thought that a jewish carpenter, might have some insight into the matter? Hours away from his death, He said, “Greater love has no one than this: that he lay down his life for his friends”.

I have 776 friends on facebook, but I know of only one person that likes me in a way that the others can’t even imagine. And we’re not even friends on facebook. Perhaps if we learn to live in authentic friendship with the Son, every other friendship might become all the more satisfying and edifying - online or offline.

One Friend in the heavens is better than a thousand friends online.

opening a deaf ear

2011-01-25T12:05:00.003+05:30

we can't find God on facebook

technology is anything that makes it easier to do something productively. the goal is to simplify the complex, pick up the pace, increase efficiency and improve the capacity to produce.

simpler, faster, better, more.

when we lived without cellphones and social networking, a crisis would find you alone, unhinged, undone. the only course of action for the christian was to depend on things divine. prayer was not the last resort; it was the only resort. social media and the cellphone have changed things altogether, because they bring people closer to the problem. we can get out of any crisis in any part of the world with a quick call to a close friend of great influence. its a good thing and its a bad thing.

the trouble with technology that brings people closer together is that we nurture the impulse that turns to people and neglect the impulse to turn to God. its only a matter of time before we have trained ourselves to depend on people and have unlearned the habit of depending on God. there's little that we need to speak to God about, when we can easily talk to someone who can actually do something about the crisis.

the journey to a deeper life is through the valley of the shadow of death,

not around it.

i've lived on two sides of a technological revolution. it is a miraculous and mysterious thing to be able to write without a pen, print without a publisher and speak without ever talking. the world is in thirteen inches, a thousand people are in my phone, the bible is on my ipod, but there's a deafness is in my soul. i used to be able to count without a calculator, run without a treadmill, wait without impatience, and pray without distraction.

its ironic that in the day of greater simplicity, its getting harder to pray.
we live in a new world of technology that makes independence,

simpler, faster, better, more

we need a return to the age of inquiring of the Lord

the silence, the solitude, the quiet and the reflection of a waiting soul in the stillness, are needed to numb the urge to push past a problem without the need for divine encounters. the disciplined habit of directing our dependence to divinity, before we look to humanity, shapes within us the spirit of worship, surrender and serenity.

without the worship of dependence,

we are bodies without rest, minds without peace and souls without substance.

heaven on earth

2011-01-21T17:25:00.011+05:30

we live in hostile conditions

the world is not a safe place to live in. while some of us can afford to find the controlled seclusion and security to shield ourselves from the influence of crime, disease and injustice, its clearly not the norm. we live in shelters that protect us from the harsh realities, most people regard as everyday life.

its not the way things are meant to be.

its not out of divine indifference that we are faced with global poverty. the world has enough money to feed everyone, get the sick to a doctor and put a roof over every head; but we're short on compassion and concern. we are innately indifferent, self-absorbed and self-centered. its just the way we are.

divine interference put Jesus in the world, took him to a cross, buried him in a tomb and then sat him on a throne, to build a new world out of a broken one. the story of the Gospel does not end on a cross, or a tomb, but rather on a throne. the ascension is the beginning of a new age of justice, equality, unity and peace. the hope of the Gospel is the reality of restoration. everything will one day be as it was meant to be; as it once used to be.

the church wants to teach us how to get to heaven after we die. Jesus wants to tell us how to get to heaven before we die.

its a message that tells us we can make the world we want to live in; be the change we want to see; and do the things we want to do, so we can bring heaven to the earth we live in.

the heaven that the church proclaims is other-worldly - distant and indifferent to the world we live in. the heaven that Jesus proclaimed is the presence of God among his new creation in a new heaven and a new earth. its not a new world, in the sense of being completely divorced from this one. its a new world, in the sense that it is this world - renewed, restored and redeemed - from its decay and degeneration.

its the old world, but its brand new.
we're not going to heaven, as much as heaven is coming down to us. the death we die takes us to the presence of God, but it doesn't leave us there. we return with him at his return - to restore his righteous rule. we return to a world in which He will wipe every tear from their eyes. there will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

the language of the new testament is not the language of a departing community, but rather a returning king. the bridegroom arrives, the landlord returns, we pray his kingdom come. the last words of the new testament are a plea for the coming of the Lord.

the heaven of the new testament is a relational reality, more than a spatial one. the ones that fall asleep before his return are kept in the presence of God and will come with him at his return. if we're awake, we rise to meet him when he appears to the sound of a trumpet.

all the language of the new testament is looking forward to a return and a coming, not an escape or an exit. we are meant to be living in the light of his return - not in the hope of our departure. the way the christian sees the end will radically shape the way he lives in the now. if we live for departure, we are passive, indifferent and unmoved by the problems of a passing world, but a life that waits for the return of a king is moved and willed into work. its concerned about the only world we will ever know - as unrecognizable as it might be at his return.

the language of the new testament is the language of redemption, reconciliation and restoration. its not a Gospel of escapism; its a Gospel of engagement. its fixing, healing, binding and mending, all that lies broken, hurt, wounded and damaged. the restoration, redemption and reconciliation of all things is the paradigm for making decisions about where we live, what we do, whom we marry and how we raise our kids.

if we're not living for a new world, we're not going to be living in the new world.

i made this

2011-01-21T10:18:00.006+05:30

"A growing number of people are leaving the institutional church for a new reason. They are not leaving because they have lost their faith. They are leaving the church to preserve their faith. They contend that the church no longer contributes to their spiritual development…

..David Barrette, author of the World Christian Encyclopedia, estimates that there are about 112 million "churchless christians" worldwide, about 5 percent of all adherents, but he projects that the number will double in the next twenty years!"

The Present Future, Reggie McNeal

creative people can't live at peace with rigid religion

the word that spoke the world into being is creative in his nature. we are formed, in his image, to be creative - to be inventing, working, writing, speaking things into being. any mind, body or soul that is nourished by his nurture will bear the fruit of its relationship with him.

authentic spirituality breeds creative expression.

its only natural for a fruit to wear the colors of the tree on which it grows. creative people are the workmanship of a creative Being. this is why its tragically ironic that the church is far from the cutting edge of creative expression. when we are limited by dogmatic protection of intellectual ideas that paralyze the will to action, we cannot release the artist, the poet, the wordsman and the songwriter into their inspired destiny.

we need to recognize creativity as a fruit of the spirit because it legitimizes art, work and industry, blurring religious lines between the sacred and the secular. when the spiritual is considered to be the property of the priest, the clergyman and the cleric, it undermines the very purpose of spiritual leadership - to empower the saints for works of worship.

when a child brings a flawed handmade portrait to their fathers for affirmation, it is the fruit of a seed that was planted by the hand of God. its the seed that longs to give something fresh, new and natural, as a gift without expectation, to the one that gave it life.

as we grow older, something happens in our religious experience that refuses the creative seed the right to bear its natural fruit - we become christians. its only a matter of time before creative people leave the church because their creativity was refused by rigid religion. urban church leadership is missing out on the mood that permeates the world through creative arts.

the church of the next generation needs to be an intentional community that breeds creative people - a community that equips, empowers and releases people to embrace a creative spirituality that raises a banner for the oppressed, sets the course for authentic pleasure, writes hope into the hearts of the hurting and showcases the splendor of truth, in all its beauty.

creative people need a creative church to worship a creative God

the next forty days

2011-01-20T14:40:00.010+05:30

the next forty days could change my life

there's a lot of biblical stories that value the length of forty days.
a righteous man is rewarded for his goodness with the charge of social suicide. a rebellious people dismissed a good man's warning that the sky was going to leak. the man obeyed, the people watched, the sky opened and leaked for forty days.

an insecure prophet asked the heavens for an early demise to escape the wrath of a jezebel, drunk with power. after he grumbled himself to sleep, an angelic baker woke him up with a cake and a jar of water. the stuffed prophet dragged his feet to a fierce meeting on a holy mountain, on the strength of a meal that sustained him for the journey of, forty days.

an anguished leader in a desert was driven to anger by adulterous worshippers and suffered the agony of leading a people, unwilling to learn. once after another - for intercession and for mercy- he made his home on a mountain, for forty days.

biblical history tells us that forty days were the measure of time for the embalming of a dead man, vulgar displays of philistine arrogance, organized acts of espionage and prophetic warnings of judgment. the infant messiah is brought into the temple forty days after his birth and duly ascends to his throne, forty days after his resurrection.

what brings about this awkward meditation on christian numerology is the fact that, for the writer, this thursday of the second decade in the third millennium marks the sobering and thrilling forty day journey from singlehood to wedlock. another one bites the sacred dust.

although a single wedding is not as cosmic as the resurrection, the gift of marriage is a shadow of greater realities - unseen, untouched, invisible - eager to be discovered, waiting to be undressed.

the first charge to the first couple at the first wedding rebuked every patriarchal culture that ever came after, by setting the mandate for a man to leave his father and mother's home, to become one with a bride in self-dying love. its an echo, a reflection and a pattern of a greater reality - when Jesus, the groom, left his Father's home to take for himself a bride that cost the sacrifice of his life on a bloody cross.

the divine marriage between God and his unlikely bride is the relationship in which our souls are redeemed from self-centered living and led towards sacrificial giving.

marriage mirrors that purpose.

what if we're not meant to be married out of social obligation; for personal fulfillment; or in pursuit of inflated romantic ideals? when you're as close to a person as you are in marriage, the first person you get to know is yourself; and how difficult you are to love. maybe then, the point of marriage isn't really to make us happy, but to make us holy.

wounds that were secret in singlehood, are out in the open in marriage.

marriage brings two broken, scarred and damaged people so close together that they see each other's injured souls - bare, unclothed, uncovered. it dares us to welcome winds of change and open our hearts to the difficult journey of restoration from the past and renewal for the future. maybe if we moved towards marriage without a willingness to change, it'd be better to sidestep the altar.

to be married is to embrace God's intricate work of the recreation of our souls. something tells me its a work that will take more than forty days.

shalom

2011-01-19T13:08:00.015+05:30

shalom is a beautiful word.

its a blessing, a longing, a prayer and a greeting. its holds the sense of wholeness, peace, wellness, and completeness. its cold water on a hot day to a thirsty soul in the desert.

shalom tells us that who we are is not who we are, really meant to be. a gulf separates us from our destiny, identity and purpose. an empty space lies between the life we live and the live we are, really meant to live. shalom tells us that there is someone who will take us from who we are and the life we live, to who we really are and the life we can really live. it tells us that there is more to this life than the story we have been told. the trials we face are leading us to glory and the joy we know is a shadow of its fulness.

our souls long for impossible things in perilous times.
justice has become a luxury only the rich can afford. truth is a mythical treasure, buried and lost without a map. freedom is a fantasy and peace is improbable in this present age of ceaseless conflict. still, despite the bleak, the dark and the disturbing, shalom is an invitation to hope.

when it comes to all the impossible things that we desire, shalom tells us that we can have them. it is the daily declaration of faith, trust and longing for things we know but cannot see; things we desire but do not have. new things, better things, eternal things. who we are in shalom rebukes who we are in the now. the things of a shalom kind of life outweigh the finest treasures of any other way of life.

shalom tells us that our souls remember a world we have forgotten, our spirits know a world that is to come, our bodies struggle in the world that is before us and our eyes are looking for the coming of a son.

designed for dependence

2011-01-14T01:54:00.015+05:30

damage is universal

a good story takes you through conflict, crisis, competition or challenge. its the writer's way of revealing the nature of his characters in a way that you can see yourself in the plot and its people. the stories of the bible are stories of humanity; stories that are vulgar, honest, open, true.

in the earliest pages of the bible, a fresh humanity struggles under the weight of its own misdemeanors. its alive but it doesn't know how to live. we are invited to stories of deception, deceit and dysfunctional families. wayward wives, family secrets, personal demons, selfish people. everyone is naked. everything is bare. the writers preserve a tension in their stories between the divine and the human - the pure and the profane. we are spirit, but we are human. we are God's, but we are broken. we are good, but we are evil.

in the exodus, six million refugees fled from egypt, with divine assurance and promised joy; but it wasn't enough for the ever-grumbling fickle-minded wanderers, who wanted onions more than promises. God was good, but he wasn't good enough for the journey. when the heart cannot trust, in words that do not lie, the eyes will not see, what the mind cannot imagine. woes in the wilderness are deepest when our sights are set on egypt; though a country is around the corner.

it is offensive to tell the truth about humanity; but it is true that we are broken; damaged, hurt, and injured. distant fathers, dirty uncles, poisoned words and jilted lovers. everyone has a story to tell that is either soaked or salted in human selfishness.

the truth about pain is that it reminds us that we are human, frail, fickle and childlike. we are not designed for independence. in our hearts we long for its comfort, because we feel it might release us from the burden of trusting someone who is surely bound to hurt us; but its a trap. a snare.
a lie.

God's promise in the death of his son; is that his stripes will heal our wounds.

the Gospel is a daring invitation to dependence.

it is the stubborn insistence that we are hungry for more than the world can give us; more than we already have; more than we can imagine. it is the audacious promise that our deepest longings are satisfied with a surrender to things divine; dependence on each other; service to things unnatural; life in redemption colors.

wild about women

2011-01-06T16:41:00.018+05:30

God is wild about women.

genesis tells us that while men were formed, women were fashioned. the hebrew word for the making of man, is yatser - used for the making of pottery; but the hebrew word for the fashioning of women is banah - used for making palaces, temples or works of art. in futuristic terms, the fact that women were fashioned and men were formed, simply means that they are the better technology.

the writer of genesis makes a point that is often misused, misquoted and misunderstood. the hebrew word ezer, that describes a woman as a suitable helper to man, is regularly used in the psalms to describe God as our helper. it denotes power and strength - as opposed to inferiority and subordination - to the effect that the reader is called to equate the efficacy of a woman in a man's life to the efficacy of God in the life of humanity. men need women the way that we need our maker.

the story of the exodus hangs on the pivotal role of the midwives in preserving the life of the man who carried the weight of a nation's destiny on his tiny shoulders. it was moses' sister who takes the bold step of offering her brother to a foreign queen, that he might be the next prince of egypt. the wife of an oppressive pharaoh becomes the agent of his nation's downfall when she rears the chosen deliver as a son among her own children.

the skeptic likes to gloss over the subtle but vitally significant role of women in the story of genesis to Jesus by underlining the gross mistreatment and abuse of women in a man's dirty old world; but we must recognize that the patriarchal bias of the religious, social and cultural world of the ancient near east is reported but not commended, described but not prescribed, revealed but not encouraged.

every instance of polygamy, bridal purchase and abuse of women's rights eventually and inevitably leads to disorder, dysfunction and devastation. a discerning reader will be sensitive to the simple and clear message to biased men that a pattern of living which denies women their worth, simply doesn't work.

of all the ways that God honors the place of women in a world of selfish men, what stands out most to me, is the incarnational manner in which he takes on feminine qualities to reveal his nature, longings and person.

God promises to comfort an exiled nation as a mother comforts her child. the book of proverbs uses the feminine word 'sophia' to describe wisdom as God's counselor who was with him when the world was made. Jesus longs to gather jerusalem, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wing. God, though always Father, is not afraid to showcase his "femininity".

the Gospels persist in this cage-rattling, counter-cultural, offensive idea - that women are worth more than men are willing to admit.

matthew's genealogy of Jesus breaks the pattern of patriarchal culture by honoring women who will live forever in the pages of the Gospels - tamar, a childless widow victimized by men who defied their obligations; rahab, an immoral outcast, used and abused by men of little character; ruth, a devoted woman who rebelled against the temptation to escape responsibility; and bathsheba, a woman who lost her husband for committing the twin crimes of being beautiful and taking a bath. ordinary women in unjust times are held in honor as vessels of the coming messiah.

in the birth passages, there is a contrast between a doubtful religious priest, a fickle-minded fiance and a believing teenage girl. zechariah and joseph are reprimanded by angels for their lack of faith; while a willing and believing teenage girl sings a song of praise that rings through two millennia.

the life of Jesus is marked by a new reality of relationships with women. the rebellious Messiah lives off the financial support of women, freely enters their homes and makes them students to his teaching. a widow with the added burden of a son heading to the grave is met with a compassionate messiah who returns her son to her from the dead. a woman caught in adultery and sentenced to stoning is delivered by a poignant question and a timely word.

an ethnic rival to the Jews, morally contemptible to her own people, thirsty for a new lease on life is preserved in a portrait of grace that reaches beyond gender, ethnicity, race and moral standing. a woman of no reputation enters a room and invites the unreserved indignation of a room full of chauvinists, who go on to invite the polite rebuke of the only man who valued her worth and promised that her story would be told through the ages.

Jesus consistently, constantly and stubbornly defies the false portraits of manhood and embraces, upholds and endorses the value of women to men who would deny, suppress and ignore it.

the first person to see the risen Jesus is a woman without renown. in a time and to a people that regarded the testimony of a woman as worth no more than oil to a thirsty man, the Gospel writers hang the force of their argument on women who saw the risen Jesus.

the portrait of union between God and man shouldn't be ignored either. we are the bride to a loving groom. God rejoices over his people in the way a young man delights in his bride. the perfect lover treasures his bride in a manner that all men are to cherish the women they are entrusted to love. God loves his bride in a way that men are to love their wives. the words are difficult to ignore. the charge is challenging to the soul.

all this is to say without confusion that women mean the world to God.

the interpretive key for the controversial passages in paul's writings is to place them in the larger context of the generous, liberating and celebrated view of women in the bible. though problematic, they are not central but rather peripheral to the portrait of women in a body of writing that arguably honors women more than all the other literature that emerges from the ancient near east.

the beautiful gender is a treasure to her maker, pleasing to his heart and cherished by him without measure. it is an injustice to his person, his word and his revelation to subvert, control and violate the freedom that God has given her and the honor that he has bestowed on her. men are charged with the call to release her into her destiny and support her as she takes hold of the life that has been prepared for her.

a man who refuses women their worth is not a man of God.

little big ideas

2011-01-06T14:14:00.011+05:30

the next big idea is a small one

its tragically in our nature to undermine the sublime power of little things by our infatuation with the epic, the grand and the overwhelming. loud people who do large things are more alluring but less inspiring than ordinary people who do little things, that eventually matter more in the mind of God.

a self-centered culture is often endangered by deliberate acts of kindness, intentional works of grace, undeserved encounters with compassion and vulgar displays of generosity.

a rich man who is willing to give up his parking spot for the sake of a drunken neighbor. a teenager in a rush who checks himself to help an old man climb the stairs to his apartment. a working man who takes the time to spend an evening with a lonely friend in a poor man's shelter. a famed evangelist who risks his reputation to visit a guilty outcast in prison. a young rabbi who rattles the cages of religious culture by laying hands on leprous flesh…

...true stories.

in the kingdom of God and the economy of the Gospels, a visit to a prisoner, a cup of cold water and an honest prayer from a broken heart hold more value than flashy miracles, dramatic exorcism and sparkling prophecy.

the better side of the universe is infused with acts of kindness, compassion and generosity that are invisible, overlooked and often ignored by the distracted, disturbed and distinguished among us. a greater mind takes copious notes of these little things and uses them as the building blocks of his kingdom.

compassion is contagious, but someone needs to catch it before it turns into an epidemic. the kingdom of God is like a mustard seed. it starts small, subtle and almost undetectable; and grows to become something more than anyone could have conceived, predicted or foretold.

perhaps the means to the next big idea is a million small ideas that call ordinary people to do unordinary things so regularly and so habitually that it grows to become something none of us could have imagined, orchestrated or envisioned.

God is in the details. love is in the little things.

"…'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and in your name drive out demons and perform many miracles?' Then I will tell them plainly, 'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!'"

"…And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones because he is my disciple, I tell you the truth, he will certainly not lose his reward."

'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'

caught in the crossfire

2011-01-04T15:26:00.002+05:30

we need a renewed planet more than we need a smarter one

IBM puts bar codes on medicine bottles to make sure that they get from the plant to the pharmacy without getting altered, tampered or replaced with counterfeits. what if people were just a little more honest? a smarter planet wants to find ways to overcome deceit. maybe we need an honest planet more than we need a smarter one.

its no secret that i'm an idealist.
i get angry about the way we live and i imagine a world the way it should be, the way it used to be, the way it will be again. its not good enough for me to live for comfort and passing pleasure. i've been wired to want more than what is visible. we need hearts that long for greater things than that are given.

its getting lonelier to be a christian these days.

the heart of a believer longs for things that are radical, scandalous, offensive and impossible. it longs for things beyond its reach and hopes for things unseen, unheard, unbelievable.

justice for the oppressed. dignity for the poor. equality for the excluded.
peace in the day of violence. truth in the face of deception.
death without a sting.

the heart of the earnest believer is caught in a conundrum. it cannot see the kingdom that it is waiting for; but it cannot settle for the city that lies before him. its caught in the crossfire between hope and cynicism. it lives in a place of tension and testing anticipation. it waits for its king like a bride waits for her lover to return from war; fighting the seduction of a thousand suitors; pining in hope for a final embrace; that may or may not come - but she knows that it will.

it necessarily sets itself up for disappointment and yet perseveres in the hope of restoration, redemption, resurrection. if a dead man can live again, maybe a deaf world can hear again. and things will never be the same.

magic. mystery. marvel.

2011-01-02T03:51:00.005+05:30

God is not a poodle

i'm not impressed by religion that can be caged, compressed or controlled. any genuine divine personality must necessarily be offended by the idea that its essence could be captured by the intellectual capacities of its creation. a people who can understand their God perhaps have not truly encountered him.

the Gospels tell the scandalous and embarrassing story of a man whose longings betrayed his political leanings. evidently, even people in power suffered the impotency of a heart that cried out for more than it was offered. for the hungry soul, every throne, seat or title eventually falls short of its promised satisfaction.

we long for things that rebel against reason.

skirting possible scandal and controversy, a confused nicodemus seduced Jesus into a quiet rendezvous under the cover of darkness. the desires of his heart were struggling with the mystery of divinity, the nature of spirituality and the complex simplicity of sonship to the Father of creation. israel's teacher returned to the classroom, but he was unprepared for the test that was set before him.

a man must return to his mother's womb and reenact the day of his birth, failing which he cannot partake of an invisible kingdom in a foggy future under the rule of a deity who delighted in confusing his disciples. evidently, spiritual birth into a new identity as sons and daughters of God was a reality beyond the comprehension of religious leaders in the ancient near east.

after entertaining the quizzical questions of a confused student-teacher, Jesus throws his hands up in the air and bemoans the limits of human understanding, "I have spoken to you of earthly things and you do not believe; how then will you believe if I speak of heavenly things?"

i say this to state very simply that some things have been left unspoken.

God is frustrating in his relationship with reason. He visits the rational and gives company to the reasonable, but he is only at home in the realm of mystery, magic and marvel. He can be understood to the fullest capacity of our intelligence but there is more that lies beyond the limits of reason that can only be tasted by a trusting heart and savored by a steadfast spirit.

our temples are not big enough for his glory; our words are not rich enough for his nature; our minds are not smart enough for his wisdom, but perhaps our hearts will have trust enough in his person.

only a trusting heart will know the peace that passes understanding because only the heart can hold a love that breaks the rules of rational reasoning.

redeeming december

2010-12-23T15:54:00.015+05:30

christmas needs to be born again...

somewhere, someone must be wondering whether the first christmas was marked by the indulgence, emotion, and economic excess that seems to mark the spirit of a re-envisioned, politically correct season of festivity.

with even a passing glimpse at the nativity in the Gospels, we might discover that the beginning of a life that irreversibly divided history into two, was marked with more danger, intrigue, threat and mass murder than with the cheer, celebration and festive joy that haunts the hurting each december. it was a lonely, cold, and confusing christmas in palestine.

an angel interrupts a stale worship ritual and strikes a man mute for his ignorant response to a God who had not spoken in four hundred years. a teenager's social standing in a judgmental community is threatened by an untimely and suspicious pregnancy that she can only defend with the unfalsifiable claims of a divine visitation. "i didn't sleep with anyone. honest! it was the Holy Spirit."

i wound't have believed her. would you?

a nervous teenager gives birth to a baby who drew the attention of the cosmos, wise men of eastern origin and unsuspecting shepherds who were more familiar with empty wallets than with the honor that history would bestow on them. little did any of them know that the finger of God would etch their names on the cover of a story that would redeem cultures, release destinies and revolutionize nations with the force of its veracity. the story remains unfinished. greater things are still to come…

a newly married couple with a just-born baby that obeyed every instruction of God, even at the cost of social standing and public disgrace, now have to flee to live as refugees in a country that once oppressed their ancestors because they are trying to escape a mass genocide ordered by an insecure king to protect a throne that didn't belong to him. their return from exile ends with life in an insignificant town of little or no reputation. nothing good comes out of nazareth. ever.

you get the sense that God likes it when the odds are stacked against him.

the birth of Christ was the breaking of a silence.

God had not spoken for four hundred years, and now He's ready to speak with a son. the child is speaking long before he can talk and his first words to a weary nation are, "I remember".

the promise I made is not forgotten.

my son is here now, the king is coming.

the Gospel you believe is the life you live.

when we believe that the Gospel is about being lifted up to a disembodied hereafter soaked in glistening light and set in sidewalks of precious stone, then we reduce God to an accessory to indulgent living - a glorified angel who clears the way for us on our journey to prosperity. we become passive pew-warmers, bitterly waiting for an eternity that might pass over us without warning.

the Gospel is an epic story of redemption, restoration and reconciliation.

the birth, the death, the resurrection and the ascension are the defining points in a story that is finished and incomplete.

to be a christian is to be saved into the Gospel of participation. we become partakers of the divine nature - imitating the work of redemption, restoration and reconciliation that began with the birth and life of Christ. we become His hands in His world to bring His promise to fulfillment before He returns to take His throne back from Herod.

christmas reminds us that God always keeps His promises. this middle-eastern religion wants to make redeemers of us all. it demands that we trade idle hands and empty hearts for firm voices and steadfast spirits. God is changing the world today. Christmas calls us to partake in the changing…

discerning the sound of the decade

2010-12-23T14:38:00.001+05:30

There’s more to Eminem than his anger.

Andrew Fletcher, the Scottish writer, once wrote, "Let me make the songs of a nation, and I care not who makes its laws”. He knew that its the artists, the songs and the stories of a nation that shape the life of a culture. Its not the politician, the preacher or the pitiful parrots in popular media. It’s the artist who wears the soul of a generation and speaks to the spirit of the age.

We listen to what we are. We are what we listen to. There’s something ethereal, visceral, even spiritual, about our relationship with music. We listen to what we struggle to say with our souls. We’re drawn to music that sounds familiar, because we heard it first in the sound of our own spirit. The artist’s desire is my desire. His voice is my voice. Her words are my words. This song is my song.

At the risk of losing all the rock-boys, Hip-hop is arguably the most influential genre of music in the world today. Rock sells more albums than other genres but when we steal more music than we buy, truth is off the record. That said, between rock and hip-hop, no genre of music sells more albums, fills more stadiums and holds more space on iPods all over the world.

But this isn’t about record sales. Its about influence. In its broadest sense, hip-hop is more than music. It’s the soundtrack to a way of living. Its an unscripted story; an undefined mood. Its a restless movement that can’t be caged within a culture. Its influence is global and universal. When Akshay Kumar and Snoop Dogg are in a music video together, you know that the world has changed.

Hip-hop has worked its way into language, fashion, sport, television, record labels and even art, architecture and interior design! Its influence in India might justly seem to fade in comparison to rock, pop, or the bollywood empire, but the truth is that its more viable in India to start a garage band with the fundamental elements of rock; than it is to wrap your mind around a mouthful of poetry in rhythm-infused rap. We’re just not cool enough for it! Have you ever met an Indian who thought he was Eminem? Seriously!

But why am I making the case for hip-hop to a reader who probably suffered a mild heart attack when he heard that Mike Portnoy just left Dream Theater? Its true. Get over it. Move on.

Its because, globally, the spirit of hip-hop is alive and moving. TIME magazine recently voted Sri Lankan artist, M.I.A., as one of the year’s 100 most influential people in the world. Bilboard’s top five artists of the decade are Eminem, Usher, Nelly, Beyonce and Alicia Keys. Nickelback is the only rock band in the top ten. Creed and Linkin Park are the only others in the top twenty that includes 50 Cent, Destiny’s Child, Jay-Z, The Black Eyed Peas, Kanye West, Rihana and Ludacris. One of the greatest pop artists of our time, Lady GaGa, was signed by Akon.

It might be difficult to digest, but rock music simply isn’t what it used to be. Its dangerous, but its fair, to say that rock arguably caters to a niche market - a very devoted market - but a niche market nonetheless.

But here’s where the debate over the most influential form of music becomes moot. Both genres, like every other unmentioned one, are slaves to the truth about music. It’s a force that resonates with the longing of our souls. If anything I’ve said has made you want to find me in a dark corner or meet me in a room without windows, its because of the way you’re connected to the sound, the mood, the feeling and the community of people that possibly don’t even know that you exist.

We’re bound by our relationship to this force that feeds our minds. And it’s neither a good thing nor a bad thing. It’s a true thing.

P. Diddy says, "I always relate hip-hop to our old Negro spirituals. They were sung in the cotton fields to help us get by, to help us not kill ourselves by going crazy [under] the worst oppression in the world. The music, the soulfulness, the spiritualness expressed in song helped us to get through another day. That's the same impact hip-hop has had on this generation. People could try to undermine it, but it's honestly the truth. Hip-hop has helped us make it through our life in the inner cities."

Every art form is a cry of the soul for something that it struggles to name. It doesn’t matter whether its hip-hop, rock, pop or emo, every musical art form reveals a longing of the soul and uncovers what lies in the heart of humanity.

We’re living in a generation that listens with its eyes and thinks with its feelings. Every artist inspires feelings that influence action. Every action shapes our values. Every man is the sum of his values.

When it comes to the force of musical genres, we go from being passive listeners to discerning ones when we begin to ask questions that take us to places our hearts may not be willing to go.

Why do you listen to the music you like? What does it tell you about what it means to be human? What does it say to your anger? What does it say to your pain? How does it shape the way you relate to people? How does it define what you accept to be the best way to live?

Music will last forever because it was conceived in the heart of God. A never-read-hardly-mentioned prophet in the Old Testament tells us that God so painfully delights over His people that He bursts out into singing.

What would it sound like if we could hear the song that God is singing?

I don't know much about the sound of His voice but I can be sure it’s the same as the sound of truth. Nothing moves the soul more powerfully than a voice that is telling the truth. Nothing inspires you to be more than what you are than a song that is soaked in truth.

The kind of listener we need in the age that we live in is the one that can discern the sound of the decade and press his ear to the ground to hear the voice of God that gently whispers to bring His rest to the longing of our souls.

We need people who can discern the sound of truth, even when its hiding under the sound of the vile, the offensive and the obnoxious. I write this to you because I want you to know that every song brings a longing to the sky and the sky answers with a song of its own. We need people who can hear both songs and bring desperate longings to satisfying rest.

God is always singing. May you learn to sing along.

This article was published in LiveJam Magazine - a special edition printed for the event, Gloria Deo 2010

a people of risk

2010-12-10T11:38:00.007+05:30

who took the passion out of the Christ?

Jesus moved in a way that rattled the cages of repressive culture. But since the days of his death, we seem to have reduced Him to a polite, inoffensive caricature of the Man we meet in the Gospels. sometimes i feel like we've taken the sting out of the life of Jesus. we've reduced Him to a harmless shepherd with a helpless lamb. a decorated deity on a polished cross. neither image captures the emotion, passion, energy, conviction and authority that courses through the life of Christ in the gospels.

there's a sense of denial that permeates our cultured reading of the Gospels. we don't want to believe that jesus did the things he did or said the things he said because he didn't really do a lot of 'nice' things. little of what He said and did was politically correct, socially proper or even in conformity with popular christianity.

i don't think that we would particularly like the Jesus in the Gospels. he told the truth far too often, spent too much time with the poor, wept openly without warning, defended the morally questionable, rebuked the hypocrisy of the elite, tossed tables in righteous indignation, and scathingly told some of the most powerful people in the city that they were children of the devil; a brood of vipers, that would die in their sins if they didn't believe He was the Son of God.

there is a difference between the Jesus who hung on the cross and the one that hangs on our walls. its a difference that we deny, repress, and even ignore. maybe the reason we do that is because we know the way that His story ended.

He paid for His words with his life.

maybe we've taken the sting out of the Gospel because its a sting that leads to death. sometimes i think we're living in a polite, well-mannered, cultured christianity that has been neutered, tamed and domesticated. its a way of lifeless living. we're alive but we don't have life.

all of this is not to say that we need to imitate the things that Jesus did without concern, respect or sensitivity to our neighbors. i'm not saying we need to become street-preachers in the city or self-appointed moral policemen who protest against everything from sexual preferences to the way we cut our hair. its tragic how our attempts to imitate the boldness of Jesus are heavy on truth, but light on grace.

we're living in a post-christian world and we need to be imaginative, creative, artistic, honest and authentic in the way we live in this new realm of reality; but there's a courage in the life of Jesus that seems to be missing in mine. there's a passion in the way of Jesus that i desire and deny.

perhaps a people who follow the way of Jesus will be a people of risk - uncomfortable with being comfortable, suspicious of the status quo, compassionate beyond comprehension, loving at the cost of losing. its a way that demands forgiveness where want to see vengeance, sacrifice when we want to see success, truth where we want to be silent and work when we want to be passive.

in the way of living like Jesus, we need to die before we have life.

open

2010-11-22T11:49:00.006+05:30

God is a sublime story teller.

His story begins in a garden and ends in a city. Its a story of redemption, restoration and reconciliation. Every tribe, every nation and every tongue is written into His story and they are bound together forever by His Son.

But even within His epic unfinished story, He is working in smaller stories of untold worth. In every pleasure, conflict and character-crunching crisis, His hand is working to script a series of sometimes-simple-always-inspiring stories of rescue, redemption, revelation and remarkable wonder.

One of these stories is yours.

But God's stories are not polite, well-rounded or politically correct.

He does not shy away from scripting chapters of agony, evil, abuse and obscenity. He is not afraid of the threat of moral failure, domestic violence and dysfunctional families. In fact, the first families in history were all too familiar with self-inflicted sorrow and supernal strife.

God writes stories that make your insides turn.

And He offers no apology or explanation.

He offers only His hand.

Its the same hand that led a coward to be the father of nations, an adulterer to leave a lasting legacy, a loudmouth to become a fisher of men, and a persecutor to bring worldwide revival. Its the hand that holds a broken world and breathes life into its inner being.

God's stories lead us from conflict to comfort, failure to redemption, brokenness to renewal and despair to certain hope. Our stories are still unfinished because His story is far from its ending.

There's much more that can be said about His story, but what is most striking to me today is this...

...God's story is always open.

He does not writes stories for people with pens in their hands. He invites us to step out of our self-written agendas and walk into His world-embracing story, leaving everything behind. Its a life-ending, cross-carrying, spirit-inspiring invitation that is open to every tribe, color, language and moral standing. We leave our pens behind and become a part of a better story.

His story.

We become His hands. His voice. His work. His children. in His world.
Agents of change. Objects of endless affection.

The story is still unfinished, His work is still undone.

His hand is always writing, the best is still to come.

donald miller stole my soul...

2010-10-06T00:22:00.005+05:30

donald miller stole my soul and i gave him money to make a movie about it

i read blue like jazz in one of the busiest airports in the world and it still felt like i was in a garden. after every chapter i read, i looked up to see if there was anyone who wanted to meet the man who stole my secret thoughts and put them on paper for anyone to read. i had the thoughts and he made the money. i should be angry but i felt strangely vindicated. i was convinced that there was someone out there who knew what it was like to be human. he knew what it was like to be me.

i've read insightful christian writing before, so when i heard the rumors about blue like jazz, i didn't take it too seriously. i read it mostly to see what the fuss was all about. donald miller didn't seem like he was trying to be insightful. the man was telling the truth.

blue like jazz brought honesty into the marketplace of ideas. He told the truth. maybe the book is so popular because its been so long since someone told the truth. i read it and felt like i was listening to the truth for the first time, and it was nice to hear the sound of it.

donald miller has a fresh, honest, vulnerable, almost "sinful" way of showing us that in spite of the many things that separate us, the longings of our souls will always bind us. miller showed me the longings of my own soul. i found myself in his story and it led me to find my place in a story much bigger than his or mine. i'm deeply indebted to his words and i wish i had half his humor.

when i heard that blue like jazz: the movie was struggling to get off the ground, i didn't think twice about chipping in. i'm hungry for anything honest and i would pay to watch the truth.

donate here to save blue like jazz: the movie

http://www.savebluelikejazz.com/

open eyes

2010-09-28T00:45:00.013+05:30

i'm a man of many fathers

a child of many men

i was born into a village that measured the worth of a man in a way that was uncommon. the leaders and the heroes to this people were not hollow men who lived frivolously, selfishly or carelessly. the men that were held in high regard in this metaphorical village were men who set their sights on things eternal, endured the scorn of a mocking crowd, suffered through nights in deepest darkness, clinging to the hope of a coming dawn.

my father was the first of these men that i held in high regard.

a child watches his parents with the eyes of his heart. what he sees will shape the way he sees the world. it wasn't long before i realized that my father was a selfless servant to a jewish fable. his home was a shelter to the stranger, a refuge for the alien and a place of rest for the weary traveler. his words were given to bring life to the lifeless and hope to the hopeless. his choices were counter-cultural, his movement was unconventional, his manner was unearthly and his way was not of this world. it didn't take long to realize that the fable was not a fable. his life was full of blinding truth.

my father was teaching me what it meant to be human, and he did it without even speaking. i was learning what it meant to be a man, and i was learning that the world was wrong. while men were raising their kin to be independent, i was being raised to depend on things divine.

on the morning of a school day under a scorching sun, i met the second man who would shape my journey towards authentic manhood. a large man with a fearless voice stood boldly in front of a thousand teenagers and declared that all their imagined portraits of manhood were cheap imitations and full of falsehood.

i felt vindicated in my spirit.

it was healing to find that somewhere in this empty reality, there was an adult who confirmed what was in my childish heart. this large man without any sign of fear gave me words that i could hang my heart on. ten years later, i would know that man as my pastor, mentor and friend. i was a man with a second father, a child to a second man.

the men i have come to hold in high regard are not men of mere success, empty pomp and fruitless power. the men i have learnt to respect are the ones who match a burning heart with a strong will and a fervent passion. the words they speak are the lives they live.

its strange, but after three decades of drifting purposefully, i find that God is bringing more of these men into my life. or maybe, he's leading me to them because its getting closer for me to grow into one myself. i want to listen to them, learn from them and become like them; because it won't be too long before someone is going to watch my life the way that i watched my fathers. the truth is, i don't want the eyes of his heart to be disappointed.

the trouble with our times

2010-08-31T17:26:00.011+05:30

i don't like living in a world where my trash is someone else's treasure

a few days ago i had to throw away six boxes of trash into the neighborhood garbage dump. i found two six year old boys, rummaging through trash with an aged old man who looked too dignified to be digging through a dumpster. i had inadvertently interrupted their efforts to collect their plunder.

i sheepishly asked if they wanted the boxes i had brought. the old man said nothing. the boys eagerly expressed their lust for this gift of trash-like treasure. i opened the doors to my car and sanctimoniously gave them the boxes which they fervently unloaded into their possession. i got into my car and drove home in despondency only to catch a glimpse of the boys in my rear view mirror, giggling delightfully about their tryst with good fortune.

we have lived for centuries in the dark shadow of vulgar economic injustice. some of us are getting richer while most of us live like dogs. more than half of the world's population lives on less than two dollars a day. its unjust and its unchristian.

i don't know if its worse that the rich don't care about the poor or that the poor seem to have resigned to their place in the world. i don't know if its fair to blame capitalism and ask for socialism instead, when its plainly evident from history that no matter what the reigning system of society might be, one thing is certain - the poor remain in their poverty, while the rich revel in their luxury.

i'm troubled in ways i've been troubled for as long as i can remember. in india, we learn to walk with our wounds and roll with the punches, so we shut our ears to the sound of a billion people and brush aside the nagging need for compassion.

who's going to save the world when no one's looking for a savior?

adam, this is eve

2010-08-24T12:52:00.007+05:30

i grew up as an only child to a traveling father and a doting mother, but although i delighted in being the object of much affection, the longings of a young boy's heart were soon-to-be invaded by a search for more than the familial. the search was earnest and it was rewarded with honest friendships that have stood the test of time.

one might imagine that the love of family and friends is more than you could ask for, but its tragically conceivable for the heart to desire more than it is offered. i was found with an almost unnatural desire for more than the affection of family and friends. a self-proclaimed, self-sufficient, adolescent jughead was turning into a hopeless romantic.

i was filled with embarrassing longings of the amorous kind and fantastical imaginations that were marked by sentimental mush. i caught myself craving the responsibility of fatherhood and desiring the delight of unmentionable things. adam was getting restless in the garden. i needed a love i did not know.

it is not good for a man to be alone

the truth is that christian spirituality limits your options in a painfully realistic manner. the body must be denied its cravings if the soul is to be truly satisfied. i wasn't merely a man who wanted a woman. i was a pilgrim who needed a person whose passion was informed by a purpose.

my life was never going to be about the journey to a comfortable career with a passing purpose and a fleeting reward. it was always going to be an adventure into the unknown, to reach for the improbable and to strive for the eternal. the time would come when it wouldn't be enough to go it alone.

it would have been easier if i was given the love that i wanted without a testing season in a trying winter, but i doubt it would have been as meaningful. israel spent forty years in the wilderness before she found her promised land. i'm grateful that i spent merely a decade, going in and out of seasons of despondency, before i happened to stroll into a seminar on a saturday morning to meet a woman who made it hard to breathe.

letters were traded to search for signs of interest

prayers were offered with longings, undressed

a heart was beating its way through a chest

while a hand was working to bring an end to the test

on the third of july, i told a woman i wanted to marry her, only to be surprised by the fact that she seemed oddly in favor of the idea. on the second date i was politely directed to the daunting door of her father. after a testing conversation, an honest prayer and a proposal with conviction, the hopeless romantic with an earnest longing was rewarded with a meal that could fill an army and an answer that led to these words.

its strangely mysterious how a short time in a soulful relationship can bring unmeasured rest to a decade of unmet longing. its true that the romantic ideals of a giddy mind may soon be standing in conflict with the force of a harsh reality, but its not in my nature to let the fear of what might come tomorrow rob me of the joy of the here and now.

adam has met his eve and she is worth more than anything the garden has ever had to offer

for father's day

2010-06-19T21:58:00.007+05:30

Its possibly true that anyone who sits in a car that my father is driving makes more promises and recommitments to God than all the members of our local church on any given sunday.

To be fair, I think its my fault.

It all began in the days when every second car on the roads in Delhi was a japanese toy that also served as the status symbol of the eighties, the Maruti-Suzuki 800. I remember the day my father came home from buying the car. It was in the evening and we were going to his colleague's house for dinner. We were a portrait of joy without an artist to preserve the memory.

The reason I take the blame for my father's speed-racing around street corners is because of the pattern that I had developed for ourselves as a family, each time we went out for a drive. It would begin with a fight with my mother over who gets to sit in the passenger seat. If you're an only child, you'll understand why I usually won the battle.

The other battle is what turned my father into the iconic and rebellious rock star of drivers in New Delhi. It was a battle that began every time I saw a car that was driving in front of us. With all the imagination, wonder and childish fantasy of a boy who simply wants to go faster than anyone else on the road, I would turn to my father, point to the car in front of us and say, "Daddy, overtake him!"

My mother, who had resigned herself for a lifetime in the backseat on account of a stubborn and spoilt child, would helplessly plead the case for safety and say, "No, Raj, don't encourage him!"

My tone turned to a desperate pleading that could melt the heart of a mercenary and turn him into a teddy bear. "Daddy, plee-ase overtake him!"

"Raj, please! Don't do it!", pleaded my mother, in a vain attempt to save our lives.

My father wore a devilish grin on his face that meant he had already made up his mind. In a moment, there was a frown on my mother's face, a sense of thrill in my spirit and a BMW in the rear view mirror. Alright, it wasn't a BMW, but that's the way I choose to remember it.

With all that said, pity the fool who happens to be in the passenger seat on a day that my father is late to a preaching engagement. Its a poorly kept family secret that my father would rather be found guilty of manslaughter than be late for a bible study in a family home.

On a sunday afternoon in my early teenage years, my father asked me to come along with him for a bible study in Palam Vihar, a suburb to the city of New Delhi. Normally, I would make an excuse and choose to be idiotized by a box, but for reasons that I can't recollect, I agreed to sit in the passenger seat on a day that he was late.

We had zipped through traffic on the unfinished road to Vasant Kunj, manouvered our way through cattle and suicidal jaywalkers. He drove so fast that we'd almost lost the flimsy rear view mirror on the driver's side of our white Maruti 800 - notoriously without seat belts, airbags or a prayer book. Faith came faster when there was no technology.

We found our way to a corridor pretending to be a road, with just enough room for a car in either lane. To make matters worse, it was lined with walls that conveniently protected farmhouses from cars that might crash into the concrete. In front of us was the devil in a delivery truck. He was driving a cargo vehicle that was old, slow and deeply annoying. But more than anything, it was in our way. It was in my father's way.

All my years of feeding my father with the urge to overtake every car in front of us was about to turn against me, to life-threatining proportions. If only I had known.

He honked, grumbled, and swayed from left to right in an effort to find a way to pass him. But the devil doesn't listen to reason. He prayed and asked for the truck to be raptured. But the Lord doesn't listen to the reckless.

I was firmly planted in the passenger's seat, half-way through confessing the sins of my youth, when I saw a glint in my father's eye. He peeped out of the car and checked if he was clear to pass the truck and leave the devil in the dust behind him.

He wasn't.

On the other side of the road, was a mini-bus full of people made in the image of God, that were loved to extent that Christ died for them on the cross. It mattered little to my father. We were late and the devil wasn't moving. He swooped over into the wrong side of traffic, pushed our battered old suzuki engine to the point of moaning and placed his son at the altar of Abraham. The second Isaac was neither amused, nor was he willing.

So there we were, on the wrong side of traffic, speeding in a dying suzuki, racing against the devil in the delivery truck and risking the lives of a bus full of people that Jesus loved more than his life. If I had more of a life at the time, it might have flashed before me, but all I can remember is the sound of the invisible angels that flew us to safety and the repressed sense of thrill that filled my father's face when he completed the dauntless move without any damage. Behind us, were the devil, a shiny pair of skid marks and a bus full of new converts to Jesus. We made it in time for the meeting and I'm alive to tell the story.

I say this because in many ways, my father lives the way that he drives. He's a passionate man who lives for a purpose beyond himself and trusts in divine interference to honor the risks he takes for the sake of an invisible kingdom.

He was born again into a sense of urgency to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Its a consuming passion that has given him the maddening courage to take enormous risks with his life. He lives out of a boldness that comes from his fervent faith in a trustworthy Jesus.

Its a desire that has driven him to travel to more than forty countries in less than fifteen years, even at the cost of being away from his family for weeks and months at a time.

Its led to a way of living that leaves his family with mixed emotions. There is the nagging frustration and anxiety that flows from his reckless and even stubborn commitment to an eternal purpose. At the same time, his life is an overwhelming legacy and a powerful story that makes us feel honored and thrilled to be along for the ride. It makes us proud to call him husband and father, even if its at the cost of some emotional turmoil.

My mother and I have been on a journey with an itinerant evangelist who lives at high speeds and thrives on the danger of service. It hasn't been an easy ride for any of us, but we know that when we make it to where we're going, we'll be thankful for the journey and joyful because of the story we have to tell.

Thankfully, more people have come to faith in a risen Jesus, aside from my father's driving rather than because of it. The angels are doing a good job, even if they get paid more to protect him.

intimately distant

2010-06-13T23:11:00.004+05:30

writers have told me everything i know to be true.

when i say "writers", i mean anyone who ever crouched over a desk with a borrowed pen and a blank page only to pen a script for a movie or the lyrics to a song or the lines for a character in a sitcom who embodies the cynical voice of self-preserving wisdom. when i say writers, i mean the people who write letters to the world that are given to us in funk, fiction and film.

i say this because the writer i love to hate just told me that i have intimacy issues. and i think he's right. i'm just a bit stunned that i didn't know it all this time.

in many ways, i've always wished that i was as good with people as i can be with words, but i've never been good at relationships. i never really learnt to interpret my emotions, communicate my feelings, engage in fruitful confrontation or even manage relationships in the way that grown ups do.

i'm oddly intelligent and sometimes insightful, but its strangely unsettling to think about how many smart people can be such failures at relationships. it makes the whole point of being smart quite redundant. i fall into the group of people that are strong in mind but bad at people.

on the bright side, its a bit enlightening to be able to know why i do the things that i do. i didn't truly realize how often i've used humor to keep people at a distance. a good joke goes a long way in keeping people at bay. its easy to be light and funny and oddly endearing, but if anyone breaches my relational borders without permission, i let the dogs out and wait for the vultures.

i feel a bit like bruce willis in the sixth sense when he finds out that he's been dead right from the start. its difficult to come to terms with the truth of it, but at least there's hope for a brand new journey.

when damage is confessed, then healing can begin

the neglected vineyard

2010-05-30T01:44:00.014+05:30

an ancient wound to a tender spirit,
can cripple a life in the here and now.

the artist faithfully reminds us that we are all, in our own fashion, frail, damaged and fractured. every soul wears the scars of a season in sorrow. we hide our wounds with mindless humor, wear robes to conceal the scars, deny the weight of a forgotten sorrow or cling to the present to forget the past.

whatever we choose to deceive ourselves into wholeness, the truth about an honest journey is that it returns the dead to their shallow grave.

authentic spirituality does not take pride in the power of a pulpit or the glamor of giving advice. it gently brings the timid to conquer their fear, the hurting to share their wounds, the doubting to face their demons and the stubborn to quench their pride. the good shepherd always tends to the sheep who walk with a limp.

genuine spirituality is not about what happens to other people.
its about what happens in us.

we're shaped by the damage that is done to us, to the point that we are soulfully disabled. we deceive ourselves into negligence by assuming that our journey with a risen Jesus is for the sake of someone else. we're only meant to serve the "someone else" out of a wholeness that we are growing into, with grace.

the journey of spirituality is cyclical, in the sense that we are gently led to the wounds in our souls that keep us from living in life. a balm is given, a word is spoken, a touch is offered and a healing begins. we serve out of this healing until the journey brings us to another neglected wound. a fresh healing begins so we can move freely to give out of new wholeness.

the tragedy of christian service today is that all our energies are given to bring change in the lives of other people, to the degree that our souls remain unattended.

we drown the sound of the cry for healing in the noise of a fresh distraction, the opportunity of another act of service, the repressive manner of a new favor, or the delusion that we need no deliverance. in all our striving, doing and serving, we neglect the need of a dying spirit to be brought to the water of life. we end up peddling a fruit that we have not tasted, selling a life that we have not lived.

the sabbath is a spiritual habit.
we were not meant to bear fruit as much as we were meant to abide in the vine. the branch that bears fruit is the one that is set in the vine. it needs no directions and asks no advice. its naturally conditioned to bear fruit because its life is one with the vine.

the spiritual man is a man who is learning the art of being, living, breathing, and moving in the life of the Spirit. everything else is incidental.

"My mother's sons were angry with me and made me take care of the vineyards; my own vineyard I have neglected."

from the Song of Solomon

unveiling the world

2010-05-29T04:56:00.011+05:30

a veiled spirituality is in the air

in the early years of my journey of faith i was at the peak of my spiritual curiosity and zealous passion. it was like the first few months of falling in love. the emotions are ripe, the senses are sharp, the longing is deep and the spirit is alive. my ardent zeal would lead me to spend between six to eight hours in a bedroom, on my knees, in earnest prayer. i had the blisters and the corns to show for it.

i was a teenager in a season of restless, desperate longing for the experience of oneness and communion with God. it arrested me in a way that banned me from leaving the room until my prayer was done. i pleaded for a life of substance, meaning, purpose and eternal value, even if it be at the cost of bitter pain. i wrestled with new emotions, groaned in wordless angst, prayed without inhibition and remained unsatisfied with my efforts.

it might have been a surge of emotions, it could have been the result of a deeper need, but aside from any and all natural reasons, i was pinned to the ground in prayer, pleading for a life eternal; groaning for a purpose divine.

in this season of intense longing, i heard about a visiting group of missionaries from a church in europe, who were holding a seminar at a local church in the city. i walked in late, entered by the door at the back, and found a place in the last few rows of the longish hall. i listened to a sermon that i can't remember and stood up after the sermon as members of the team wandered through the crowd, praying for people as they were "led by the Spirit".

a man strolled through the long aisle, made his way to the back, stepped up to within a foot of me, and politely asked if he could pray for me. i nodded and he softly told me that he had a sense that i had been longing for a richer experience of God. i thought of my nights in prayer and nodded to say that he was right. he wanted me to know that God had heard me and that he would oblige. i whispered my gratitude and retreated into seclusion.

its been nearly twelve years since that happened.
i remember it on the night that i met dallas willard in the pages of a provoking book. he told me that the air our body requires wraps itself around us on every hand. to receive it, we need only breathe. the 'air' that our souls need also envelops all of us at all times and on all sides. we need only breathe with our hearts.

God doesn't live in a distant heaven or the church across the street. He fills the whole earth that he inhabits. He is alive in our homes and present in our spaces. His presence fills the air between two people and the room between two souls. he is here, imminent and close at hand. He is now, today and near.

a decade ago, something mysteriously spiritual united an amateur british prophet with a reserved, insecure teenager. its true that he could have walked up to almost anyone in the room and found resonance with their secret spirituality; but there's something mystical about the experience that the cynic can never embrace, though the trusting can fully understand.

we find meaning in spiritual relations.

the spiritual life is a life that unites a soul with the Spirit that infuses the earth. its a posture of the soul in relation to a world that is soaked in the fullness of God and yearns for people to come alive to its veiled reality.

we find him when we search for him. we search for him when we know where to look. we need look no further than what we see before us, because that is where he lives. we awaken to find that God is near us, close at hand and always pruning. we learn the art of listening to his leading so we can serve him in his working. He is where you are today, he is where you'll be tomorrow.

God is always speaking. we are souls that are learning to listen.

"For in him we live and move and have our being"
the apostle, paul

the end of a brahmin

2010-05-27T01:19:00.011+05:30

i am a descendant of the brahmins
and the citizen of a caste-less kingdom

my father was a devout brahmin hindu who lay prostrate before snake pits and ended a day of work with quiet meditation in the company of a pantheon of gods & goddesses, and a little picture of the infant Jesus. a bold confrontation by a co-worker and a determined effort to debunk the bible ended with an affection for the person of Jesus and the conversion of a brahmin's heart.

the brahmins are the class of educators, doctors, lawmakers, scholars, priests and preachers. the caste system places brahmins at the peak of the pole, while a large portion of the indian population (arguably fifty percent) is classified as scheduled castes, tribes and other backward classes.

even though caste-based discrimination is outlawed by the indian constitution, it remains a dirty social reality in the invisible india that is home to 72% of the country's population.

on paper, my father belonged to the caste of brahmins, but in his heart he belonged to a risen Jesus who sought the "outcast" as fervently as the "elite". there is neither brahmin nor dalit, jew nor gentile, for we are all one in Christ Jesus. although he was never a man to believe in the caste-system, by his conversion i was born into a brahmin family but i grew up in a caste-less christian home.

decades after his conversion, my father fell into the mould of the itinerant evangelist. six months of every year were spent in trains, planes, cabs and buses, traveling to cities, villages and countries across the globe, preaching the Gospel in crusades, churches, homes, basements and banquet halls.

to the damage of his health and the mixed emotions of his family, he followed a never-say-no mantra that has taken him to more than forty countries in less than ten years, from speaking to the poor in villages with no electricity, to dinner with government officials as a guest of the state.

i write this to honor an incident that brought his former cultural identity squarely against his new personhood. the brahmin was to be shunned by the christian.

after spending a few days preaching to pastors of a congregation in the heart of southern india, a region notorious for subtle caste preferences and deep-seated discrimination, he spent time praying with the leaders and felt the need to perform an audacious act of service, prompted by a urge in his spirit.

inspired by the Spirit of God, he summoned a bowl of water and a bath towel, and asked the leaders to remove their shoes so he could wash their feet in a demonstration of the teacher serving the students. in a region where the preacher is placed on an undeserved pedestal, the act of a teacher washing their feet was less than lost on the stupefied pastors.

without understanding the reason that drove him to wash their feet, my father returned to a chaotic itinerary and continued preaching without any memory of the bowl and the towel. six months later, he heard from one of the pastors whose feet had been washed by his brahmin hands.

the man was the only pastor among them all, who came from a low-caste background. the other pastors came from brahmin backgrounds and brought their pride into their conversion. it led to a subtle and deceitful discrimination against the man from the lower reaches of society.

when the brahmin pastors saw a brahmin man washing their feet and the feet of a "low-caste pastor", they felt the force of a new conviction. collectively, they apologized to the victimized pastor and resolved to dignify his place in leadership.

my father rejoiced in receiving a reason for his blind obedience to an urge in the spirit; and declared his delight to his doting wife and silent son.

i didn't learn the injustice of the caste system from a book that argued for the equality of man. i was honored with a father who saw the worth of a human being, not in the place of his birth or the caste of his people, but in the words of a bible and a corpse on the cross.

the Gospel gives untold value to humanity by declaring that we are each created in the image of God, as equal as anyone else; proven to be worth the very life of God, by the death of a man on the cross; entrusted to carry the message of God, over angels and forces unnatural; and empowered to be the temples of God, with the indwelling Spirit who inspires new living.

my father taught me, quite unwittingly, that every man is worth the life of God. all humanity deserves the dignity of being wholly human.

the kingdom to come is a world without discrimination, segregation or division. the christian isn't a christian until he lives to change the world from a dirty sewer into a righteous city, so a worthy lord can bring a caste-less kingdom. to that end, we live and labor, that every tribe, every nation, every people, and every land, might see the king in all his glory and honor his work with lifted hands.

unplugging the soul

2010-05-26T01:10:00.004+05:30

i want to be an olive tree

in a sublime sort of way, the world of natural foliage is used as a strong metaphor for spiritual vibrancy in the scriptures. the spiritual man is like a tree beside still waters, an olive tree flourishing in the house of God, and a branch to a life-giving vine.

the spiritual man is closer to the farmer than to the city slicker. the life of the farming man is lost on the technologically astute. we're restless and impatient in a day when our souls need the patience and tender care of a faithful farmer. we're distracted and divided, in a time when our spirits need to be watered with devoted discipline. we crave instant results in an age when our hearts follow the pattern of a lingering harvest.

we have too many ways to escape the reality we fear to face. we've forgotten to reflect on the way of our lives. we don't search our souls or tend to the needs of the spirit. we keep ourselves busy to the effect that we convince ourselves that there is nothing in our vineyard that needs the gardener's pruning. our distraction brings degeneration. when the harvest comes, the crop is cold.

authentic spirituality is a farming reality.

we reap what we sow. we get what we give.

my senses are trained to turn to tiny gadgets for great relief. my soul is losing its appetite for spiritual things and seeking shots of pleasure from passing treats. i move too fast and pause too little.

my soul is drawn to dead things more than to living things. i talk to machines more than to men. its a pattern that dries the spirit and chokes the soul. it makes us cold, numb and inhuman. lifeless, spiritless and loveless. even great technology in weak hands turns a living soul into a dirty tomb.

a fresh spirituality woos me from the mall into a garden, though i stubbornly fight the sound of its whispered seduction.

in the garden, you see the sun. you stand under the color of a bluish sky and the warmth of a summer month. you are surrounded by the sound of thriving, breathing, living creation.

in the garden, you remember that you are a soul and not a gadget, a man and not a machine. i was meant for living, breathing and being, not for striving, moving, and struggling.

a pruning takes place in the garden.

dust becomes a living thing.

a child becomes a son.

a man becomes a follower.

a servant becomes a friend.

the garden is the home of the spirit. there are no plugpoints in a garden. there's only air to breathe, water to drink, people to talk to, and children to play with. perhaps we need men who live in gardens more than we need geeks who play with gadgets. we remember we are human beings when we return to the place we were first human.

authentic spirituality turns a deafening noise to the sound of silence; the way of distraction to quiet reflection; the urgency of the spirit to a soulful patience; a body of lies to the confession of truth. we remember what it means to be human when we have nothing to make us forget.

i want to be an olive tree that bears fruit in its season because its roots run deep into the soil. i want the life that comes from a life-giver, before i shrivel up, wither and die. i fear that my dependence on the technological will rob me blind of a life, well and truly spiritual. my soul needs to be unplugged from its addiction to noise and my spirit needs to be tuned to the sound of silence.

only a quiet soul in a silent garden can hear the sound of God walking in the cool of the evening.

appetites for distraction

2010-05-20T23:39:00.013+05:30

"It is this most basic human loneliness that threatens us and is so hard to face. Too often we will do everything possible to avoid the confrontation with the experience of being alone, and sometimes we are able to create the most ingenious devices to prevent ourselves from being reminded of this condition. Our culture has become most sophisticated in its avoidance of pain, not only our physical pain but our emotional and mental pain as well. We not only bury our dead as if they were still alive, but we bury our pains as if it was not really there. We have become so used to this state of anesthesia, that we panic when there is nobody or no thing left to distract us. When we have no project to finish, no friend to visit, no book to read, no television to watch or record to play, and when we are left all alone by ourselves we are brought so close to the revelation of our basic human aloneness and are so afraid of experiencing that all pervasive sense of loneliness that we do anything to get busy again and continue the game which makes us believe that everything is fine after all."

Henri J. M. Nouwen

"Technology is a great servant and a bad master"

L.T. Jeyachandran

i can't imagine being a writer in the days before steve jobs gave the world an apple that we could bite without a fall. i don't want to live in a world without the fictional work of writers that's taken to the screen so that i can spot myself in the story, and feel a little less alone.

the internet changed the world in the way that no futuristic filmmaker, even as late as the early eighties, could have imagined. i've lived on both sides of the cellphone, the iphone, facebook and twitter. i was witness and victim to the way that the rules of the relationship game were relatered beyond recognition.

still, even though i can paint a picture on my finnish cellphone in a language that an american apple can understand, something doesn't feel right. i'm becoming more technological by the nanosecond at the expense of my frail humanity.

i have an insatiable appetite for distraction. i can sit for hours in front of a thirteen inch portal that takes me into the living room of four fictional geeks and their unlawfully good-looking neighbor, but i struggle to read through a five page new york times article on "the cussing pastor", leave alone the book by dallas willard that i promised my conscience i would read by the end of the week.

i'm far less relational than i used to be. i'm much more comfortable staying connected to people through social networks than i am in a room full of people. i'd rather text, email, tweet or send a facebook message to someone, if it means that i'm spared the torture of personal face-to-face interaction. no pain can find you if you are sheltered by a technological fortress. i'd rather be protected by consumer appliances than prone to personal pain.

someone once said, "show me your friends and i'll show you your future". my friends are apple, nokia and sony. i'm fast forgetting what it means to be human. i'm turning into a machine.

will Jesus still love me when i'm a gadget?

a culture of giving

2010-05-14T01:24:00.006+05:30

india needs to make giving a cultural habit

i'm writing this in the air-conditioned comfort of a room in a resort at a camp in which i'm the youngest speaker. i have two bottles of mineral water and a half-empty carton of sugarless grape juice to help me in my battle against a cold that wants to kill me, so the sound of truth will be unheard. its a fool to have started the fight.

my best friend of more than twenty years is sitting a foot away from me killing germans on his mac in answer to the 'call of duty'. its his way of rest and recovery after spending restless hours laboring over the words he's going to use to shape the minds that will shape the future. tomorrow he'll pour himself into his message with passion and bleed his spirit dry, following which, more germans will be led to die.

we're the face of the gifted indian. freely given so we will give.

a few minutes ago, we sat and watched the inspirational story of scott harrison and the radical shift in the story of his life that turned him from a pretentious night club promoter in new york to a water-bearing messiah to sub-saharan africa and developing nations around the world. in three years of creative expression that joined design with purpose and calling, he has brought safe and clean drinking water to more than 800,000 people in thirsty nations around the globe. every day that he's alive, thousands of thirsty people find water that gives them life.

communities find transformation when creativity gets married to calling. designers are prophets to a world that listens to images. scott harrison has taken creativity and design to serve a calling to change the world. its a pattern of creative giving and the portrait of a life, fulfilling.

when i grow up, i want to be like scott harrison.

india has developed a culture of raising doctors, engineers, lawyers, managers and businessmen who can buy an island on a whim. we've traced a path for our children that leads from the crib to the cubical to the corner office. we push them to work hard so they can play harder; run fast so they can win faster.

ajit and i were blessed with parents who valued service more than success. in fact, they considered genuine service to be authentic success. we've been raised with a passion for compassion and a weakness for wayward giving. the struggle we face in our unfinished story is the direction we must take to fulfill our weighty calling. we're working without jobs and serving without a salary because we trust in divinity that will give direction even though culture looks on with suspicion.

india needs families that value givers more than winners. we need communities that are marked by compassion more than competition who breed world changers more than money makers. we need a people who are burdened with a passion for the poor more than they are anxious for the rise of successful offspring.

we need parents who invest in personhood more than professions and raise children who are more satisfied than they are successful. we need a cultural shift from the insecure selfishness that turns growing children into corporate slaves. we need to move towards a mood that trains children to be sensitive to the sound of their calling and given to the path of their passion because serving is still better than seeking and giving is still better than receiving. its the way we promise to raise our kids. its one we way we know to change the world.

watch the video

http://www.charitywater.org/media/videos/media.php?video=video2
you can follow scott on twitter @scottharrison and @charitywater

the assembly of ordinary people

2010-05-13T01:27:00.008+05:30

Jesus could never be a pastor

Jesus kept company with such social outcasts that he was accused of being a glutton and a drunkard. the rabbi was not available on demand, and he deliberately refused to perform miracles that would heal the sick, if it meant they would dismiss the truth.

the carpenter-turned-prophet was impolite to the board of elders and repeatedly exposed their corruption to the congregation. the self-destructive messiah resisted the road to political prestige and ruffled the feathers of the religious elite. this oddity of a teacher was taking the road to self-inflicted ruin. the man was asking to be crucified.

the quickest way to paralyze the force of a movement is to convert it into an established institution. the church began as a movement of passionate people coming to trust in a risen Jesus and fill the world with hope. its become a shelter for corrupt bureaucrats that is crippled by their perverse craving for power and is mastered by their fear of losing control. its growing biologically, but its dying in its spirit.

i live in a country with a church that has leaders who hire thugs to beat each other up, so that it would help in the coming elections. controlling leaders, money launderers, dirty politics and filthy lies. the people of grace are worthy of judgment. we are pretenders and charlatans, smooth-talkers and shallow men.

if the message of the risen Jesus is to make a dent in the age of authenticity, it must be born again as a movement of ordinary people who serve the world in extraordinary ways. the establishment must be overthrown by the force of a giving people and the work of a helping hand. the damage done to the name of a risen Rabbi can only be undone by the fresh service of a new generation of 'religion-free christians' - a passionate people of communal faith who seek no glory for themselves.

in a world with a billion people without water, children dying everyday, women subjected to oppression and civilizations in decay, the church is careless to be engaged in debates over 'elementary things' and arguments over points of doctrine. children need food more than theology. people need water more than ideology.

i resist the established, political systems that have replaced the authentic community of a church. we become more than we are when we embrace an earnest community of passionate people who live in honor of the calling they have received - to give their hands to heal the world, their strength to build the nations and their lives for the sake of the cross. megastructures are artifacts of a forgotten legacy. ordinary people are the future of the church.

everyone needs therapy

2010-05-12T00:01:00.006+05:30

everyone needs therapy

i get angry when i meet christian leaders. i get frustrated and i implode within my indignation because they regularly tell me stories of troublemakers in the church who are devoted to preserving the illusion of self-importance and remain incapable of seeing beyond themselves.

its annoying and its disturbing, but there's more to the story of the struggling pastor and the way of his wayward sheep. the anger that comes so naturally stands corrected by further examination.

the new testament bears witness to the devoted work of the divisive. the church harbors troublemakers just as earnestly as it did in the early years of its childhood. much of the letters in the bible are written by leaders to their churches to refute the counterfeit ideas of an imagined Jesus or to nullify the divisive influence of the devil's minions, manifested in the habits of professing christians.

the church is plagued by political divisiveness because the Gospel is limited to intellectual assent.

the message of the urban church is disturbingly insufficient. we are interested in people who will agree that we are right. we want to show people why we are right and we consider them converted when they admit that they were wrong and confess that we were right. its a Gospel of mutual agreement over divine and historical facts. its untrue and its unchristian.

an authentic encounter with the risen Christ naturally brings personal transformation.

Jesus changes people.

alcoholics have broken the addiction. the selfish have turned to service. the damaged have found their healing. the abused learned to forgive. though the brokenness is what makes us human and, in a sense, remains with us till we depart, the force of divinity redeems us from its power and takes the Gospel to a beating heart.

people are naturally broken.

everyone is damaged. everyone is injured.

we each have wounds that were given to us by distant fathers, controlling mothers, angry brothers, cheating lovers and fair-weather friends. we wear our wounds on our tired souls and hide our hurt behind our humor.

the tragedy of the troublemaker is that while the mind nods in agreement, the wounds remain disguised, the hurt remains protected and the truth remains unheard. the damage of years forgotten plays itself out in dramatic fashion. we learnt how to die but we didn't want to learn how to live.

an authentic spirituality gently probes into our spirit and uncovers the hurt inside our hearts. it speaks truth to the lies that bound us and brings peace to the place of torture. God whispers love to the heart that knew only abuse. things can never be the same again.

we need a Gospel that comes with therapy.

the most insightful times in my spiritual growth have been through times of personal introspection - the time that i wept before a few of my peers when i spoke about going through two years of schoolboy bullying; the time that i went through the agony of a broken heart and had to learn the power of true redemption; the time that i was counseled by a life coach who revealed to me the inner workings of my psychological makeup.

Jesus changes people from the inside out.

the greatest bondage that christians live with today is their bondage to the unresolved damage of a trying season. though its what turns us into troublemakers, it can be redeemed to turn us into history makers.

the greatest challenge that faces the newborn christian is the journey into himself to return to the place of damage that he might find a savior's healing. the troublemaker who takes the challenge to break away from his bondage will find the untold freedom that has been promised. and the pastor will be a grateful man for it.

like a thief in the night

2010-05-11T02:51:00.010+05:30

"At the heart of the historical Jesus story is the provocative, compelling, subversive, beautiful insistence that nothing can ever be the same again, not after resurrection"

Rob Bell

the silent witness to the living Jesus would always be confronted with his unpredictability. there was simply no way to tell what he was going to do next, or what he was going to say. the mood that permeated palestine and was common to the multitudes was constantly frustrated by the higher thoughts of this penniless jewish rabbi, who was oddly supported by the wealth of women.

the disciples were regularly frustrated by his manner just as much as he was exhausted by their lack of vision. the rich young man on the brink of conversion would have seemed to the disciples to be the one to lift them out of economical hardship. Jesus told him to sell his possessions.

when the disciples went looking for food, Jesus went looking for trouble. a jewish man and a samaritan woman, known to be promiscuous, are engaged in a private conversation at the neighborhood well. the woman is changed, the village is transformed, the disciples are confused, and the rabbi is on to the next adventure.

the Gospels are a living testimony to the unpredictability of the living Jesus. he walked on water and spoke to storms. he resisted popularity and searched for solitude. he was silent when he was wrongly accused but he was angry when the temple was abused. consistently and constantly, Jesus confronted culture when it was corrupt and chose grace when there was room for wrath.

Jesus, in the dusty streets of palestine, was a contradiction to popular culture, but nothing was more outrageous than his promise of an empty tomb. the Gospel is not merely about Christ on a cross. its about a King who took his throne.

the reason i say this is because the most unpredictable thing about the Gospel was something oddly recognized by the demons. legion couldn't understand his advent. the spirits were deceived by his death, and the devil couldn't predict his resurrection.

destroy this temple and i will rebuild it in three days.

He wasn't talking about the temple.

He was talking about a tomb.

an empty tomb means that its not over.

a risen Jesus means that it doesn't have to be the way that it is today.

the dust, the dark, the despair and the desperation of a dirty world does not mean that we descend into depression.

in the lowest times of my life, i've been met with the force of a brute compassion. the truth is that the universe is rich in the spirit of a hope that is empowering and inspiring. its a hope that came out of the grave and rests in the heart of the persevering.

its easy to be cynical. you can let your mind tell you that we are slaves to a hollow nothingness; or you can let your heart tell you that there is hope in an empty tomb.

we live out of the thoughts that train our minds to direct our manner. i've given my mind to be trained by the hope that came crashing out of a tomb that belonged to a rich man. it means that there is more to life than meandering through the mundane. it means that there is a kingdom that is coming and a king who is returning. we are left behind to clear the way for his enthroning.

the coming of the risen Jesus will be as unpredictable as his departure, which is why the service of the saints must mirror the passion of their savior. to live for less would be to settle for the safe and the predictable. its a life not worth the living. its a story not worth the reading.

i wrote this after watching this video by rob bell. its a little over the top and i don't like it, but the words are true and they're inspiring.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wjXYlwvS5LY&feature=related

on mother's day

2010-05-09T00:24:00.007+05:30

my mother is unorthodox and improper. she keeps her hair short and doesn't care much about cooking. she falls asleep in boring sermons and sometimes snores when others are praying. she once wore jeans at a summer camp and looked better than the college girls that were with us.

she's secretly addicted to 'Friends' and would watch it for hours at a stretch if only her conscience would allow it. i think rachel is her favorite. she doesn't like movies that frighten her, but she'll put herself through the torture if my father and I insist.

my mother is unique in her way of being. she laughs in a way that makes you want to laugh because she's laughing. she gives freely without the burden of expecting anything in return. she's so casually ageless in her manner that i sometimes wonder if she might be younger than me. she prays for me often and waits patiently for me to find a wife.

when i was living with my parents, she managed a house that was home to her absent-minded husband, her reclusive offspring and her day-dreaming nephew. for that accomplishment alone, she deserves a medal of honor.

she's seen the worst of my anger and known the worst of my pain. she battled both with a gentle kindness and a trusting faith. she struggled with a sickness for decades and still found a way to make me feel that i was loved without reservation. she's blissfully ignorant about the ways in which our world is a better place because she's in it. she's a woman among women. she's charming and infectious and my father is lucky to have her.

she always said i was her favorite son. i always reminded her that i was her only son. its mother's day and this is in honor of my favorite mother.

happy mother's day mom!

the liberating interruption

2010-05-08T15:55:00.004+05:30

actors are better than spectators

i grew up naturally inclined to a pre-ordered universe. i was introduced to the creator of the universe and the king of kings at the age of romantic imagination. the glorified praise of the devout disciple lifted my soul to believe that i was a spectator to a play that was being staged for my personal pleasure. the lord of lords would order the world to suit my preferences.

i would soon realize that the end was not predictable.

i believed that every little detail of every single day was predetermined before the beginning of time. an open parking space was a display of tender mercy. an unspoken desire that came to become real was the fruit of a deeper reality. there are no accidents. there is no coincidence. fortune is disguised divinity. luck is confusing grace. i was the portrait of childish wonder and the bearer of giddy faith. every day, every hour was divinely ordained to serve my desire to be enthralled. i was rarely disappointed.

oddly, i never felt as though i was a puppet because i seemed to love the thrill of a good surprise. there was always the sting of disappointment every now and again, but i assumed it was a necessary part of the plot development and the end would justify the means. things got difficult when the sting outweighed the thrill and the plot seemed to be veering off in the wrong direction.

the first time that i was disappointed, i wanted to walk out of the play. the plot was becoming dangerously unpredictable and what was supposed to be a comedy was turning into a dramatic tragedy. something was obviously wrong with the script. i needed to speak to the writer, but i wasn't allowed to go backstage. i fought with the floor management and demanded to see the director, but he was probably away in the cayman islands, reveling in his wealth at my expense.

it took a few years to see the world that was outside the play about my life. it took some time to see that i was not the center of the universe. it took longer to become relatively comfortable with the idea. its still taking time to accept the implications of the truth.

the journey of authentic spirituality gently but firmly takes you from being a spoilt spectator watching a private performance to a minor character engaged in an epic saga.

a minor character cannot survive on his own. if his part is to have any purpose, he needs to be connected to other characters in a way that bring significance to the story. in fact, his life depends on it. a minor character who seeks independence will inevitably find himself written out of the story. what good will it be for an actor if he reads his lines from another play?

i lived the first act of my life eager to be entertained. i sat in the lap of luxury and waited in wide-eyed wonder for the play to serve my personal purpose. its true and its unsettling, but there was more to the plot than my private pleasure. i was called out of my cage of comfort and pestered by the passion of purpose.

i am an actor among many others. we share the stage of a shattered humanity; damaged, broken and fractured; stifled by its self-indulgence, and waiting to be redeemed. the story is penned by a savior, empowered by his spirit and fleshed in his people. we are agents of his redemption; restored to bring renewal.

the great thing about this author is that he gives a freehand to his actors to serve his purpose with their passion. the tragedy of our conflict is that our passion is drowned by distraction.

we need a people who are brought to personal renewal and grow up to discover their customized calling. its what moves us from being passive spectators to plot-changing characters. we go from static to being spirited, dry to being watered, inert to being vibrant and dead to being alive. the ugly truth of the matter is that the story is yet unfinished, the conflict remains unresolved, the actors are still spectators and the work is still undone.

the way of the working wordsman

2010-05-06T03:54:00.010+05:30

the way of the quiet writer is demanding on the soul

i don't know why i chose the way of the writer. i think its because it means i can work without a job, travel without a compass and nap in the middle of the afternoon. i always wanted a job that demanded a reasonable amount of work in exchange for a vulgar amount of money. i don't know why i chose the way of the writer.

i dabbled with the idea of becoming an american actor but i forgot that i was an indian. i wondered if it were possible to become a filmmaker but it would mean that i would have to work on set and speak to people; manage egos and put up with stars. i wasn't comfortable with the profile.

i remember the first short story that i ever wrote. i was thirteen years old and it was an assignment for my polished, polite and masterfully eloquent english teacher. every time he spoke, it was like listening to poetry. i think even angels stopped their singing just to listen to him teaching. i was the only one unimpressed.

i gave him my story and watched him read it with a disguised disturbance. it was a story about a group of tourists who get lost inside a pyramid and get murdered one after another by the mummy who had come to life. everyone died. nobody survived. it was bloody, gory and necessarily pessimistic. it wasn't merely a story. it was a philosophical statement to the discerning reader. i left his office with a fluid swagger and told him i'd remember him at the oscars.

not really.

i never wrote the sequel to the risen mummy, but i knew i was on to something. aside from the fact that i was found in the world of words, i was a stranger to the world of people. the truth is i was never good with people. i'm known to be socially awkward, relationally barbaric, oddly reclusive and naturally insecure. for most of my life, this potent blend of bewildering characteristics has quenched my urge to speak what i think and say what i feel, in addition to baffling the people that come to know me.

the trouble is that the soul wants to speak even if the body is unwilling. this tension between the innate need to express my thoughts and the natural urge to repress my feelings inevitably relegated any form of self-expression to the category of the arts.

i was born into an awkward silence that was broken by the pen.

i've come to realize that the way of the writer has been thrust upon me by the divine hand that formed my inner being and the innate need to be wholly human.

the way of the earnest writer is taxing and demanding. it calls for a manner of naked vulnerability that is anti-thetical to popular culture. it demands convictions that invite mockery and prescribes ears that are deaf to cynics. it forces the writer to embrace conflict and complication as a necessary evil that serves to tune his pen.

the trouble with the weight of this bittersweet calling is that the one who calls you is determined to lead you through valleys, caves and deserts before he brings you to mountains, light and pasture.

there is no comfort that the writer can offer unless he has served his time in hell. there is no promise that he can proclaim until his faith has been put on trial. the writer must know pain before pleasure, conflict before conclusion, fear before hope and tension before trust.

the blessing and the curse of a working wordsman is that we are on a journey that stretches the soul to its limits so that we can speak out of convictions that were born in conflict and trust that has been through trial. the greatest teacher i know suffered the cross to comfort the broken. its only natural that the student should walk in his way.

fire in the sky

2010-05-05T16:55:00.003+05:30

i was born into beliefs that were penned in western seminaries.

while an awakening world was being shaped by the ministry of american media, the asian church was being tutored by the voices of western theologia.

the best of them were men of great integrity who knew the cost of sacrifice and paid the demanding price of their passion. the least of them were self-righteous biggots who reduced the message of the risen Christ to a self-serving economic agenda. somewhere in the course of my unconscious education, i wondered if there was more to the gospel of the risen Christ than the rhetoric of the american evangelist.

i searched the scriptures to find a refugee who became a jewish rabbi. i met a passionate prophet with a penchant for a new polemic. i heard the promise of a coming kingdom and was overawed by his visible demonstration of its glory and fullness. he was showing us how to be human in a new and living way.

in this kingdom of new inversion, women were affirmed and children were treasured. the sick were healed and the dead were raised. sinners were redeemed and the outcast was included. the poor man was honored and the proud man rejected. the first were last and the last were first. reality was inverted. the world was upside down.

i saw in the gospels what i wanted to see in the world. i saw in the way of Jesus what i wanted to see in myself.

He was the face of a new tomorrow and the image of a coming king. the four gospels were french windows to a world unlike my own. it was a point of reference that was better than the realm i knew to be real and the world i thought to be pure. i was taken to the world i want to live in and was given the charge to make a change.

at the advent of this messiah, the pattern of a new reality broke into the world. i'm curious about what the spirituality of Jesus looks like when it rests in a globalized indian who lives in a post-christian era and is subject to the judgment of a cold, pragmatic culture. i'm drawn to history's greatest martyr because of the way that he affected the world.

i've departed from the debates over doctrine and the realm of the right and wrong. i want to live under the influence of a portrait of passionate vision. i want to be moved by the sound of a thrilling symphony. the way of Jesus is wholly unnatural. its counter-cultural and provocative. it stood against the religious policemen of the day just as much as it does against the theological watchmen of our generation.

the divine hand of his destiny moves to bring redemption to the writer in his brokenness and to the millions in their oppression. we are in no place to define his boundaries or limit his action with our comfortable portrait of a polite deity who caters to our cries for personal profit.

the effect of the way of Jesus is the same as watching fireworks light up the sky. it pierces the night with its beauty and lifts the soul beyond itself to a place of wonder. what fireworks do for a moment, the way of Jesus does for a lifetime. we are witnesses to his unorthodox wonders and partners in his higher purpose. its not the most popular way to live the only life we have; but its arguably the most rewarding.

outside the tunnel

2010-05-02T04:02:00.005+05:30

it takes the darkness of a bitter night to know the force of redeeming light.

i remember the first time i went through a personal crisis. i was a native to naivety and a natural born idealist. its not as though i had never known the disillusionment of disappointment or the stifling struggle of self-denial, but i was gripped by a stubborn optimism that saw the sun before the dawn and the shore before the storm.

every conflict was destined to resolution. every complication would be met with proper climax. the divine hand of destiny could only act in favor of the devoted heart of the disciple. i was young. naive. deceived.

i don't know if it was the impassioned preacher with the assurance of divine favor or the predictable filmmaker with the safety of a secure conclusion, but diverse forces of overpowering influence had conditioned me to believe in the promise of perfect pasture.

in the last ten years, i've been through the kind of conflict, crisis and complications that have given me the kind of education that comes without a degree. the polite theology of the seminary and the trite cliches of the church stand impotent against the harsh realities of disappointment, rejection, bitterness and betrayal.

i don't believe there is any truly satisfying response to the philosophical problem of pain simply because its not merely a philosophical question. its a personal one. pain is felt personally more than it is felt intellectually. a grieving mother who's just lost her child is more keenly aware of the problem of pain than the philosophically astute or the cynically skeptical.

i believe in hope instead of cynicism because i found healing in spite of pain. i've seen order come out of chaos. i discovered trust in the dark of doubt. i felt the sustained tension of a paradoxical promise. i could only know his power if i was settled in my weakness.

it drove me to the conclusion that there are times when his divine favor does not conspire to relieve us from our suffering because his greater desire is for us to know him in his power. we know the force of his peace only if we are caught in a state of chaos. we know the efficacy of trust only when there is room for doubt. the glory of a risen savior is that his hope is felt as personally as our pain. we know his healing in the private chambers that held our anguish. we know his rest in the damaged heart that knew our turmoil.

pain remains the most bitter and yet the most effective way to know the power of a risen Christ. his purpose redeems the damage. his promise redeems the pain. its the reason we trust in his person and hope in his coming reign.

unschooled perseverance

2010-05-02T03:55:00.001+05:30

personal pain gives you an education in unorthodox prayer.

the first time i went through a personal crisis was the last time i prayed like a fool. when you learn to pray in pain, you begin to see yourself in scripture. you hear the sound of your soul in the desperation of the psalms, the labored cry of lamentations, the intensity of the prophets, the audacity of job, and their collective trust in the promise of hope.

pain changes the way you pray in a manner that threatens the worth of any theological education. it forces you to bring your anger, bitterness and hostility to a sometimes silent, always patient listener. it provokes an honest expression of emotion when a stoic and subconscious theology demands a vaporous confession of faith.

i've come to believe that you don't really know a person until you know them in their pain and you don't really trust a person until they've been with you through pain. anyone who has been through the trial of a bitter journey remembers to honor the healing comfort of earnest friendship. still, as much as the counsel of a good friend is comforting, its also limited and temporal. even the best of counselors need their time and space.

christian spirituality breeds divine companionship. prayer isn't meant to take away your pain. its meant to take you through it.

an honest expression of darkest doubt brings you to a place of true companionship and persevering trust. it leads to a fiercely empowering companionship with the suffering and the risen Christ. it forges a friendship from the fires of crushing agony into a bond that refuses to be bent or broken.

we know him in a way we never knew him because we know him in our suffering. we know his power in our pain, his comfort in our agony, his healing in our anguish and his promise in our fear.

the faithful are not always the most obedient, the most religious or the most outspoken. the truly devoted among the spirituals are the ones who have been through the crushing angst of personal pain and have lived through it without losing faith. the reward of their private anguish is deeper companionship with the divine. its a reward that's worth the trial. its a pleasure that's worth the pain.

the supporting cast

2010-04-30T04:44:00.002+05:30

authentic spirituality demands untold sacrifice

i'm troubled by a christianity that reduces God to a person of influence, a friend in high places or the last resort in a personal crisis. its a self-centered spirituality that demands more than it offers, receives more than it gives and whines more than it worships.

i grew up with the innate belief that i was the center of the known universe. i give the greatest value to the things that have a direct bearing on the quality of my life. everything else is inconsequential.

corruption is a systemic sin when there's a cop trying to make a buck off the papers i left at home. racial discrimination is a social evil when i'm the object of the segregation. it doesn't matter to us that our economies are so unbalanced that the poor are getting poorer, as long as we're on the richer side of things. it doesn't bother us that a billion people live in extreme poverty as long as its tucked away in the india that's invisible to our distracted vision.

something is not right with the way that we see the world. my vantage point is biased and our interpretation of life is imbalanced.

authentic spirituality demands a radical shift in personal paradigms. it seems that popular christianity is built on the premise that God has a secret and specific plan for every individual and it is the whole duty of man to pry this divine secret out of his hands, so that we can finally give our lives to fulfill that hidden calling. i'm disturbed by this agenda.

a new spirituality is draping the canvas of my eager soul. its the spirituality that requires me to unlearn the tired cliches of a corrupt christianity. God does not have a plan for my life. He has a purpose for the entire planet. God is not given to pour out material blessing into my hands that i might be settled in his favor. He is passionate about empowering me with instruments of change that i may serve to restore his righteous rule.

we are pilgrims on a journey that he is leading, stewards of tools that he is giving, characters in a story that he is writing and servants to a world that he is redeeming.

authentic spirituality demands the sacrifice of servanthood, surrender and self-denial. its not about us. its all about him.

an inversion of perspective that demotes the individual from being the central character of a selfish story to a supporting character in a greater story has profound implications on the interpretation of life.

disappointment is understandable when its interpreted by his purpose to bring character out of conflict. the sting of pain is redeemed by his power to bring strength out of bitter suffering. we know evil best when we have tasted of its bitterness. we know his power most when we have suffered the force of his healing.

pain prepares the person for a purpose that's greater than personal gain. the struggle of self-denial forces a strength into our inner being to empower us for greater sacrifices that are to be made.

i used to live to discover what God was going to do in my life. i'm learning to live to discover what i can do to change his world. i used to see his power and influence as convenient assets to my pursuit of personal pleasure. i'm learning to see my personhood as an instrument to serve his purpose for the planet. i used to believe that God existed to serve my ambitions. i'm learning to enjoy the truth that i exist to serve his purpose. its a purpose that transcends my personal pleasure and calls for cataclysmic change.

authentic spirituality demands more than sacrifice. it demands the death of the true disciple. we no longer live for ourselves. we now live to serve his vision.

the stunning irony of the Gospel is that the ones who choose to die for him are the ones who find true life in him. the ones who answer the call to sacrifice are the ones who find reward. the lost are found with radical purpose. the fool is found with gold. we lose the world to gain the kingdom. we want the king to take his throne.

on a canvas of disappointment

2010-04-29T04:00:00.005+05:30

i was born into a spirit of optimism and descended into silent cynicism

i grew up on a diet of fantastical film-fare with structured plot-lines that came to pre-meditated resolutions and feel-good remedies to common and complex conundrums. i was educated by the methodical patterns of motion pictures that were conditioned to inspire hope against all odds and that consistently rewarded pure persistence with the object of its desire.

the boy will always get the girl. the truth cannot be threatened. good guys win and bad guys lose. justice shall prevail. the way is hard and the path unkind but the end is worth the wait.

it was a false education. life is harder than the movies. living is tougher when its in the real. the boy can lose the girl. the truth is always drowning. good guys lose and bad guys win. justice can be denied. the way is hard and the path unkind and the end can be unredeemed.

a sinister concoction of personal tragedy, private crisis, unresolved tension and teenage drama broke the spirit of optimism that was ingrained into my earnest soul. i became cynical and my spirit was prone to despairing. i lost my trust in every goodness. i saw evil everywhere. i subconsciously gave up my faith in divine purpose and i lost my faith in prayer.

the most sinister outcome of this subtle and well-disguised cynicism was felt in my meagre expectations out of the not yet; a sense of disappointment regarding the now; and a nagging sense of regret with regards to the before.

i secretly and unwittingly resorted to a sterile calvinism. if God is sovereign, why should i bother to pray? the expectation of answered prayer only increases the anticipation and sets you up for a greater sense of disappointment and theological confusion. my desires always got me into trouble, so why bother bringing them to God? if there was no specific prayer, there could be no unanswered prayer. if there was no unanswered prayer, there could be no charge against divine faithfulness.

so i stopped praying as an unconsciously deliberate act of faithlessness, ironically meant to preserve my faith. i stopped believing in prayer so that i could continue to trust in God. i stopped asking God for favorable outcomes so that i wouldn't be disappointed with his interference or his absence.

it was a pragmatic and cowardly way to drown my doubt, hide my disappointment, bury my dejection and stifle my suffering spirit.

i employed the chanting of theologically proper mantras and showcased a public devotion to politically correct cliches. everything happens for a reason. all things work for the good. God has a plan for your life. you'll be grateful to God at the end.

sure. whatever. why not?

the truth is that i was secretly grieving over unanswered prayer to questionable desires. i watched the world live in hedonistic self-indulgence while i suffered the sacrifice of self-denial. i witnessed the prosperity of the faithless and i saw the rich abuse the powerless. the first were still first and the last were still last. there was no rightful reversal of fortune. there was no savior to bring salvation. i bemoaned the hidden reality that life is undeniably unfair. God is unjust. trust is a wasted effort. hope is hell bent on hurting us.

sometimes the answer to unspoken prayer is the one we don't want to get, and we're not willing to accept it; but since we never prayed for it we remain unaware that we are deeply disappointed in God for the way that he ignored it. a rift begins to grow between the bride and his loving groom. a sacred romance lies interrupted. a divine dance comes to a halt.

i say this because i don't believe in self-preservation anymore. i can't protect myself from pain. it seeks you harder when you run from it faster. sometimes God doesn't give us what we want and that's all there is to it. you get bitter, you get angry, you get depressed and you get over it.

God is bigger than his provision. i've come to believe very sincerely that sometimes we don't get what we want because we don't want enough. our desires fall short of his ability. we want less than he can give. i struggle to admit it, and i don't like to accept it, but i know that it is true.

the portrait of persistent faith is preserved on a canvas of disappointment.

the faithful persist in his purpose because we believe in his person and we trust in his righteous judgments. i've been through the bitter disillusionment of deep disappointment and the recurring nightmare of a desire denied or a hope deferred. i know the darkness of despair and the din of nagging doubt. i'm familiar with the sound of sadness and the comfort of secret sin. self-denial is not a cakewalk. sacrificial living is not a dream. the way of the cross is deeply difficult but its reward is beyond belief.

i've had some very earnest requests that were bluntly refused and some very sincere prayers that were politely rejected, but i'm honestly grateful to the invisible hand that has penned my path over thirty years of tension. i stand corrected by his judgments and consoled by his interference. i bear the weight of a thousand unanswered prayers and the burden of a million, granted.

the movies lied to me about the way of living. the devil lied to me about the way of prayer. i'm learning to pray again with earnest hope and eager expectation. i'm returning to the way of wordless intercession and the path of trusting prayer. i was born into optimism and i was ravaged by bitter cynicism. i'm getting born again into the spirit of stubborn hope and into the heart of determined surrender. its the best way i know to be a christian, and its the only way to pray.

returning to redemption

2010-04-24T23:05:00.009+05:30

we are descendants of the dysfunctional

one must wonder why the writers of the bible chose to pen their characters into dark corners of deep corrosion. its almost as though there was a determined departure from decency and a stubborn irreverence for the self-righteous moral sensibilities of the twenty first century church-goer.

moses didn't give much thought to the moral codes of republican america or the cultured standards of southern india. he was telling the truth about his people without glossing over their secrets. a burning bush endorsed his effort. a future church would read the scandal.

the first family is remembered for the first murder. the father of nations would rather give up his wife to foreign kings than lose his life to keep her honor. isaac and jacob reared families that were were marred by the kind of lies and deception that would have them excommunicated from any self-respecting congregation in any part of the post-christian world. a woman hatches an elaborate plan to seduce her deceitful father-in-law and bears him an illegitimate son. she isn't forgotten with the faithless. she is named in the genealogy of Jesus.

degenerates fill the pages of the old testament to the point where it feels more like you are walking through a prison full of felons than a sanctuary full of saints. our spiritual ancestors were not prayer warriors with blisters on their knees and scars of self-denial on their souls. we have a heritage of fathers and elders who were spiritually passionate and morally culpable. earnest desire and deceitful selfishness were tenants to the same landowner. we are descendants of deceitful disciples. we are sons to sinners and saints.

its tragic to me that though the bible is home to pilgrims with heavy baggage, the church is home to christians who hide their luggage. the bible is open and honest. the church is a collection of cover ups. we are more conscious about our image and social standing than we are about truth and grace.

a spirit of self-righteousess has taken over the best of the church to the point that we condemn more than we confess, we accuse more than we forgive, we demand more than we give, and we revile more than we redeem. we're more comfortable with a judge's mallet than we are with a sinner's plea. after all, another man's weakness can only make me look stronger. its the attitude of a serpentine heart and its turned us into a thing ungracious.

i don't like the duplicity of christian conduct and the casual condemnation that comes to us too naturally. its cold and its unchristian. when did we become so pious that we could no longer see our sin?

if our spirituality is to be authentic it must be characterized by the values that are intrinsic to the bible. we need a naked vulnerability that embraces our inadequacies and celebrates the journey to concrete victory. we need a candid sincerity and an unfeigned honesty that moves us from a shallow religiosity to authentic spirituality.

i trust in the force of communities that have room for confession because i like the promise that comes with the territory. the story of the people in the bible is one of redemption and restoration. though their sins are uncolored and their secrets are uncovered, the desperate are crowned with compassion and the repentant are honored with redemption. communities of truth and grace set the stage for divine interference. truth is the way to freedom. grace is the way to redemption.

the great inversion

2010-04-22T03:51:00.007+05:30

"It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."

C.S. Lewis

conversion leads to inversion

its too easy to become a christian these days. its even simpler to feign religious spirituality. the portrait of the respectable christian in urban india is stupendously uninspiring. its nature is marked by fences, borders and boundaries. we're breeding christians who are defined by what they reject, oppose and resist, rather than what they practice, propose and affirm.

a christian who doesn't drink, swear, smoke, or sleep with strangers becomes a counter-cultural hero, worthy of much respect. i grew up with a fervent desire to live up to this inherited portrait of self-rigtheous christianity and although i don't regret the way of determined self-denial that marked my formative years, i'm beginning to realize that there is more to being a christian spiritual than a list of things forbidden.

the impassioned preacher told me to turn away from all things carnal, but he never told me what it meant to be truly spiritual. the urgent purpose of christian discipleship was marked by abstinence and asceticism. see no evil, hear no evil, do no evil. i had to live with eyes closed, ears shut and hands tied. its no way to make a difference. its a life unworthy of remembrance.

conversion to Christ was never meant to take us out of the world to live in self-preserving cultures of safe cohabitation where we applaud each other for lives of self-denial that are insignificant and inconsequential to the rest of humanity.

its what we do that must define us.

an inward-looking christianity is blind to the cry of the oppressed, deaf to the sounds of extreme poverty, indifferent to the injustice that plagues the country and immune to the call to compassion. we're levites to the man on the way to jericho.

authentic conversion leads to an inversion of the heart's ambition.

it releases us from the corruption of false desire and it redeems us from the obsession of self-improvement. God no longer serves our interests. we no longer serve ourselves. career submits to calling. ambition surrenders to mission. the character is servant to a larger story. we become bound to the plot of his play.

i've learnt more about being spiritual by the things i've learnt to embrace than the things i was told to resist; by the things that i chose to do than by the things i was told to forsake; by the initiative of action than by the passivity of self-denial. authentic spirituality isn't marked by the absence of things unholy or an aversion to all things carnal.

authentic spirituality is marked by an inversion of the heart from self-preservation and self-absorption to missional service and purposeful passion. we are converted when we learn to serve and live to give. we are saved when we choose jobs that serve the kingdom, lovers that love the king, passions that nurse the spirit and habits that feed the soul.

we're not converted until our ambition is turned on its head. conversion leads to the inversion of the heart from the stage of self-centered desire to the seat of sacrificial service for the sake of a coming king and the birthing of his outrageous kingdom. we're not free until we're bound to heal the earth. we're not saved until we're saved to change the world.

children of the divorce

2010-04-16T14:33:00.005+05:30

i've lived on two sides of a radical revolution in thought and practice.

i spent the early part of my years in an india that was untouched by prophetic media and settled in comfortable ignorance. the television and the internet, along with market reforms in the indian economy brought me into the second part of my unfinished life and radically changed the person i would become for the rest of my life.

visual media and the liberation of the internet brought me face to face with the opinionated irreverence and bold individualism of western thought. i was an overawed spectator to a manner of expression, a way of living and a form of decision-making that flew in the face of the timid submission to the common good that i was familiar with. a churning was at work in the chambers of my listening soul. the influence was overpowering and a change was understandably inevitable.

monumental market reforms in the indian economy brought me within comfortable reach of new technology, frequent travel, coffee shops and designer brands. the world i watched on the television was waiting outside the door. the gadgets i saw in the movies were resting in the palm of my hands. i was the face of the newborn indian. and there were many more like me.

the mass of a rising india lay claim to the liberal individualism of the west in the way that i clung to porn at the peak of puberty. it was unprepared for the freedom it had been given and it lost itself in a sea of self-indulgence. a tumultuous tide took over the spirit of a new generation. indians were no longer indian. we were reborn as citizens of the world. but this is where i parted ways with the rest of the country.

as the west was playing piper to enamored indians, i was driven to repression by the controlling forces of the western church whose influence had reached the capital of country. while my friends were invited to the circus of self-indulgence, i was denied the right to play.

i was an only child to a popular evangelist in a semi-conservative christian community that lived as a people in exile under the reign of an image-rich empire. while my mind was shaped by the firm convictions and the republican leanings of the american theologian, my soul was drawn to the media and the mind of the western liberal left. i was adopted by the twin forces of the conservative pulpit and the opinionated silver screen. my father believed in Jesus and my mother believed in herself.

the church and the media were at odds with each other. i became the illegitimate child and damaged son to the forbidden affair and bitter conflict between the american church and western media. i love my father but my mom is right.

my soul was torn by the spiritual passion of my religious father and the humanitarian fervor of my compassionate mother. the strangest thing to me was the fact that i saw the fullness of their longings in the face of the risen Jesus.

i grew up in a state of conflict as a silent and helpless witness to the battle between metaphorical parents. the church and the arts were blinded by their bitterness and crippled by their distaste for each other. neither were concerned about their effect on my timid soul. in all my quiet reflection and sober judgment, i began to discern the truth from their misguided folly.

the church had a hole in the gospel. the arts had a hole in the soul.

i believe in a Gospel that came to me from the bible and from the arts. i walk in the way of a Jesus that i met in the temple and at the movies. i see his face in the evangelist and the social reformer, the preacher and the producer, the prophet and the poet, the sinner and the saint.

there is truth in the longings of the earnest saint and there is life in the song of the soulful. we want justice to rule the nations. we want fear to be slain by hope. we want change to reach the dying, and the poor to be clothed in robes.

i want to see my parents get back together. i want them to work things out. i want to the see the prophet in the artist's forum and the poet in the people's pulpit. the truth is greater than their conflict. the need is bigger than the fight. the mission we share is unifying. we want to see the sun dispel the night.

fatherhood

2010-04-14T22:50:00.005+05:30

i'm closer to fatherhood than i've ever been before.

i spent the best of my early years crafting my life after the sage-like wisdom and the inimitable manner of riverdale's jughead. i was mentored by his aversion to women and his addiction to meat and sugar. it was all i needed to be happy. it was simple and it was working.

puberty hit me harder than i expected and the enemy became the object of desire. the feeling wasn't mutual. i carried a metaphorical ring into every infatuation and returned with polite rejection. my time was still to come.

i spent my twenties in the throes of restless tension. i grew into the age of eligibility and blew past it without consequence. the inevitability of the marriageable age that promised a new companionship was wasted on the writer who penned my story. greater things were in the offing. the gratification had been delayed.

a character in conflict is much more interesting than one without a need. a story unresolved draws the reader into its complications. the tension is the selling point. the conflict is the the crux. i am said character in a story that remains unfinished. i am the carrier of a conflict unresolved and the vessel of a longing unfulfilled.

i say this because i've always been drawn to the glory of fatherhood with a patient longing and a fervent hope. men without siblings seem to desire the pleasure of a litter of their own. perhaps we imagine that the love of an unborn child might make up for the years the locusts have eaten. its selfish but its true.

despite this false confession, i believe there's more to the intriguing call of fatherhood than its self-fulfilling satisfaction. i see myself in my unborn child and i see the imprint of the divine in my capacity to be its father. its a pattern of a higher affection and a sign of things to come.

i used to think that the gift of children would be the opportunity to pour myself into a learning vessel and release a breed of humans marked by honor and integrity into a world they will infect with passion. high ambition, even for my idealistic leanings.

i've come to believe that my unborn children will transform my inner being with a force i cannot imagine to an end i cannot fathom. the teacher will become the student. my son will be the sage.

fatherhood is dangerously appealing and frighteningly delightful. its a world i wait for with patience. its a prayer i present with caution.

i stand in a story as a character of unresolved conflict. the writer directs the script and the subject shall trust his pen. the end will be when the end will be. in the waiting, i will imagine.

the fruit of the tree

2010-04-14T13:08:00.004+05:30

a false argument is drowned by true affection

i've lost the nerve to argue but i still believe in devotion.

i began this blog in a bible college where i was a student to a faculty of very smart people. i wanted to be intellectual, theological, smart and insightful. i wrote papers that got me grades which made me feel that i was good at something. i had a new place to hang my hat. i was a fresh budding theologian.

my earliest posts on the blog began with seemingly logical, thought-through arguments that come across as though i was pitting my faith against the treasured beliefs of everyone else. my daddy can beat your daddy with a stick. it was competitive, argumentative and even possibly, naive.

i believe in the way of Jesus because i deeply believe its the best way to live. i think his vision is global, his manner is tender, his way is compassionate, and his truth is compelling.

i was seventeen when i realized that i was the faith minority. i live in a country with a people who name thirty three million deities as gods and goddesses, leave alone one of the largest population of muslims in the world, next only to indonesia. why should anyone believe in one God in a land of thirty million alternatives?

i'm not an intrusive person and i don't like to pry on the personal faith and private beliefs of anyone i know, much less the stranger and the acquaintance. i want to give people the freedom to choose what they want to and to live any way they choose, without having to add my two cents worth to it. but i'm a man of deep convictions that often collide with the views of others. in many ways and at many times, i'm an ostrich to the collision.

i don't like the idea of confrontation in any context, much less in the context of religious preference. i'm not particularly sophisticated in argument or deeply intellectual in debate, which adds to my aversion to all things debatable. i'm more eccentric, imaginative and oddly spiritual. i prefer the peace of a private prayer.

the truth is that i experience the way of Jesus in a manner that is deeply satisfying and uncomfortably challenging. i wish there were more people with whom i could share that experience, without having to pull out a tract or a call to an altar. i wish there were more people who knew the way of Jesus in the way that i know Him, but i'm averse to the intrusion.

i imagine my exclusive devotion to the person of Christ in the way that He portrays our relationship. He is the groom and we are the bride. my experience of the risen Jesus is in the context of divine romance. He is the lover and we are the loved.

i wonder if the joy of a fulfilling romance is something to be lorded over the ones who have not yet known it. i wonder if the force of a logical argument is the way to convince a people that they can be the loved to a faithful lover. i wonder if the capacity of the heart to cry for love can be reasoned into surrender to a love divine and joy sublime.

i don't want to argue anymore. i don't want to fight about the right way to live. i've found what i know to be the best way to live and i wonder if the joy of the affection will be intriguing enough to draw the world to an experience of life as compelling and as overpowering as the love of Christ.

can the fruit lead the hungry to the tree?

agents of cosmic change

2010-04-14T10:54:00.006+05:30

a false christianity is inward, insulated and self-preserving

i grew up in a christian bubble of self-indulgence and self-preservation. my social conscience was prematurely quenched by the misdirection of the evangelical mission to save souls from a fiery furnace, with glib concern for the hungry orphan and a passing prayer for the destitute mother. hagar lies dying in the desert to a church that does not see.

my words reflect the same paralytically passive concern for the condition of the country, but its a step that i must take towards action over apathy and deeds over deliberation.

i was born to high-caste brahmins who forsook their caste for the name of Christ. the banner of prestige and honor that would bring them favor in abundance was burnt at the stake of a slaughtered lamb. i never knew that i was of brahmin descent until it was too late to brag about it.

i grew up as a hungry christian who innately believed that all men were created equal, regardless of color, caste or creed. the discrimination and segregation that was woven into the fabric of this nation was as alien to me at the time as the weight of bitter poverty. one was madness. the other was a baffling illness.

i belong to the 1% of the indian youth that lives on a first name basis with the hollywood elite, spends hours in deep conversation with new technologies, and clothes itself in names that are marked by birds and horses. we are traveled, educated, intelligent, progressive, questioning, unorthodox and opinionated.

we are rich in conviction and soaked in passion. we have much to say with few to listen. we're considered strangers in our home and labeled aliens in the lands of others. we are neither foreigners or indians, but we're at home in the country and at rest, abroad. we're quite possibly the future of the nation, but the nation doesn't know it yet, and arguably, neither do we.

we've grown up with access to clean water, gratifying gravies, four-wheeled transport, money in the wallet and a swagger in our step. in contrast, a vulgar percentage of the country dies of diseases from dirty water, feeds on gravies soaked in sweat and begs for coins from passing cars. their wallets belong to criminals and their feet are soiled by tar. i was blessed and i didn't see it. i was rich and i didn't know it.

there is an imbalance in the country.
there's a hair in my bowl of soup.

i don't blame the church for my ignorance or the evangelical mission for my misdirection, although i do see a hole in our Gospel. i'm convinced there's a breach of the covenant. we're preaching a Gospel that isn't whole. we're selling cakes that haven't risen.

we need a Gospel that speaks to the poverty of the nation, the oppression of the caste system and the systemic sins of corruption, injustice and economic inequality that plague the country that will shape the coming world.

a true christianity is social, missional and self-sacrificing

Jesus was given to the centurion, the fisherman, the pharisee and the leper. he robbed the rich of their false security and the poor of their bitter strife. he proclaimed a world without injustice, a people without indifference, a reign without oppression and the rule of a righteous king.

the church is his agent of transformation, the catalyst for cosmic change. we're meant to serve the nations we inhabit and the cities we dub our dwelling. if the kingdom is coming to india. we're the ones to bring its righteous reign.

liberation theology is rejected for its one-sided, monotonous ode to political liberation. true theology is rooted in holistic liberation. the soul and the body, the spirit and the mind, culture and country, the poor and the blind. there is more to be saved from than the mystery of a coming hell. we need a Gospel that delivers the dalit, the prostitute, the child-laborer, the orphan and the illiterate.

the Gospel needs a new evangelist. the church needs a new agenda. the christian has a vital purpose. the believer needs a fresh devotion.

we live today to replace yesterday with a new tomorrow. we need a Gospel that is veiled in flesh. words that proclaim freedom. hands that work for justice. feet that move with compassion and hearts that burn with fire. the Gospel of the jewish Jesus is the promise of full salvation. its hope is all-consuming. its deliverance is overwhelming. it names a King of pure compassion. it needs a people with an untamed yearning.

the long way round

2010-04-11T16:20:00.005+05:30

dreamers are at odds with blueprints

i'm low on ambition and high on imagination.

i grew up with the blessing of being a child to parents without a mould. i was left to go the way of nature and to be the way i was made. i grew up with strong leanings towards the unseen, the unreal, the imagined. i was comfortable with silence and secure in solitude, though my longings went beyond my boundaries and my dreams drew me out the door.

i say this because my imagination is at odds with my ambition. or rather, the lack of it. the dreamer can hear the disturbing sounds of the doubting and the dissenters. when will passion turn into a plan of action?

i always stumble through my responses to questions about my future. i offer possibilities and suggestions that were given to me by others, but i doubt my own belief in their virtue. i'm asked about how i'm going to build a bridge across a river when all i want to do is walk on the water.

i chose to serve the Gospel in a time of great dissension. its a choice of liberating freedom and restless angst. the trying part is that its not a choice without consequence. its not a purpose without complication. its not a decision without difficulty. the choice to serve the kingdom makes demands on your life in the world. there are no resumes for the prophet and the poet.

i'm passionate about the truth. its what i want to see in my relationships. its what i want to see in my way of living. its what i declare to be my purpose. i exist to flesh the truth to anyone who might be willing to listen. its the purpose to which my hands are a servant and the end to which my voice is a slave.

i dream about the transforming power of truth. injustice overturned by integrity. poverty subverted by gracious giving. humanity redeemed from oppression. children released into light. i dream about the change that truth can bring to a person, a people and a nation. i live to bring that change to life.

i value the truth because its vital to trust.

we live in a world of much suspicion. parents with words that mount up the wounded. friends that feign affection. dreams that die in disappointment. lovers who leave without warning. its a world in which the hurt become defensive and the bruised become escapist. we reject before we're rejected. we leave before we're left.

i trust in the truth of the gospel because i found its Christ to be trustworthy.

he lifted my heart to a purpose as big as a kingdom and to a story much greater than its complications. his words and his way gave me a love of tender affection that embraced my inadequacy and enjoyed my humanity.

his divinity was soaked in humanity. his lordship was rich in service. his kingship was marked by mercy. its my trust in His divine kingship of humanity that leads me through the confusion of uncertainty and the strain of certain doubt.

i found his truth to be comforting, bold and correcting. it was affirming, encouraging and exhorting. his people were a people of truth. His friends are a people of integrity. they spoke his truth to me when i needed it most. its a truth that always set me free.

the spirit who wrote the Gospel is at work in the story of an unwaged prophet. i live to serve his high ambition with the force of my imagination. the writer must lay his pen to paper that the author may lead his way. the answers will come when the questions are few because a walk on the water trumps a fool in the pew.

the portrait of a new personhood

2010-03-29T17:19:00.008+05:30

"delhi is an orphan child"

it was this passing comment by a thinking leader at a seminar on a sunny saturday that drove me to draw my pen on a lazy monday.

i've grown up in a city of calculating competition. the insecurity and aggression that is common to the orphan child is typical to the people in the capital of the country. its sown into the fabric of the city, its etched into elitist communities and its burned into my timid soul.

our parents coach our children to chase a career that will bring success, where the chase robs them of their spirit, their career is a new form of slavery and their success is our social standing.

the investment in training and education gives way to the charge for a potent paycheck. our lives serve the mission statements that end up scribbled on our empty souls. we're raising robots that are void of spirit and people that are stripped of purpose. its a tragic disposition. its a cold, systemic sin.

when culture becomes competitive, community becomes oppressive. children become commodities, relationships get opportunistic and people are reduced to utilities. its a time that needs interference. we live in a day that calls for deliverance.

the language of the two testaments clashes with the sound of culture. it speaks of aliens, pilgrims and strangers who are defined by their trust in a jewish leader whose kingdom is greater than companies and whose purpose is greater than paychecks.

the spirit of insecure competition comes from a dampened sense of identity. the spirit of calm assurance comes from an identity that is rooted in true relationship.

we are meant to be filled with the confidence that comes from being valued by someone greater than ourselves. contrary to the words of culture, the words of the new testament draw us to a place of secure standing in a trusting bond of unfailing, divine affection.

the man who walks in the security of a sure relationship and the confidence of divine purpose will find his way to an honest paycheck and to a life of true success. i was raised by a set of parents who chose the path of proper personhood, and who taught their son to walk this way.

personhood is greater than profession. relationships are stronger than positions. the kingdom is higher than culture. God is better than man.

giving

2010-03-28T16:46:00.014+05:30

the gift of blessing demands true giving

i've lived in the captivity of the upper middle class for the better part of thirty years. its a world between two worlds. its a realm of false reality and the stage of things absurd. we are ants in the corner of a dirty kitchen who believe the earth is made of sugar. the prophetic metalheads, Tourniquet, are right to say that we are enslaved to a "microscopic view of a telescopic realm".

a minority of super-rich and semi-famous socialites live above us in the lap of luxury. their cars could feed a village and their wealth could save a small country. its a life we denounce in public, but its one we watch with lustful eyes.

the tragedy of our class is that we set our progress against the riches of our upstairs neighbors, and deem ourselves unfortunate. we give ourselves to the pursuit of their dazzling treasure and we spend ourselves in the chase. but our gaze is misdirected and our balance is all but broken. we've built a wall that shut out the masses. we locked the doors that drowned their cry.

almost half of the world's population lives on less than a dollar a day. my expenses in the last month amount to more than a dollar an hour. its taken all of thirty years to realize that my place in the world is the portrait of an anomaly. its peculiar. unique. absurd.

i belong to a minority that feels like the majority.

our cocoonish world of comfort is the only world we've ever lived in.

its true and its disturbing. i've lived all my pleasant life in the security of a structure that is populated by the educated, the affluent and the moneyed. its all i've ever known. but its untrue and its unreal. the world is bigger than my sheltered playground. the earth is greater than my cage of comfort.

three out of the six billion on our planet are living without access to clean water. five thousand children die each day from what bono has termed "stupid poverty". it brings death that can be cured by access to the water in our aging refrigerators and a short consult with our family physicians. brian appleton brings it home by telling us that five thousand dead in a day is like twelve jumbo jets full of children crashing everyday. my doctor says i should drink more water.

i write this on the day that i turn twenty plus ten.

i've lived the best years of my life in the lap of unearned luxury. i've always understood riches in terms of a flashy bentley. i never saw it in a glass of cold water. i'm beginning to realize that all my existential struggles have been lived out within the structure of an elitist christian community in the secure confines of the upper crest of society. with all of that in mind, i wonder if i've ever truly had a complaint worth grieving over.

we're a blessed minority that has ignored an oppressed majority.

our blessing brings an obligation. our favor calls for intercession.

in three decades of eccentric living, i've learnt that its better to have open hands and a large heart than clenched fists and a hoarding spirit. at the threshold of a new tomorrow, i stand before a world invisible, unseen, ignored. the blessing that came without merit compels me to pledge my will to a new way of giving.

all the days ordained for me were written before one of them came to be. its vital to my satisfaction that the best of my unwritten days be offered to the gift of giving. i am a prisoner plotting his freedom, a captive calling for escape. i am written to be a writer. i trust an Author to redeem my cage.

finding a fresh humanity

2010-03-27T00:04:00.008+05:30

we need a new way to be christian

its difficult to be a christian these days. it draws more lines and builds no bridges. after all, religion breeds war and violence, spirituality thrives on ignorance, the metaphysical is merely mythical and faith lies to the millions. its unpopular to be religious. its much more acceptable to be pragmatic, driven, tenacious and humanitarian.

christianity is political in america, impersonal in asia, irrelevant in europe and economical on television networks. its offensive, oppressive, restrictive and legalistic. our reckless proclamations of inconsiderate faith merely frustrate the cynical, incite the critic, alienate the doubting and insult the intellectual.

why would anyone want to be spiritual in a time when religion is the enemy?

i don't like the christianity of this urban era.
i don't believe it resonates with the gospel of the jewish Jesus.

our methods are obsolete, our motives are insincere, our words are insensitive and our way is quite unchristian. we've come a long way since the fervent missional influence of the newborn church, the ardor and passion of the early christians and the signs and wonders of the first apostles.

our christianity is not like Jesus.
its a caricature of his essence, a privation of his person and a digression from his purpose. we've made him in our image and i don't like him in these clothes.

in my opinion, the point of primary tension between the Gospel of our churches and the Gospel of the coming Christ is in the portrayal of his kingdom.

we induce the fear of fire and provide a sure salvation. we proclaim a coming judgment and provide the proper shelter. in simpler terms, our Gospel is entirely post-mortem. it teaches us how to die, but we know not how to live.

we've become a people so other-worldly that we have no value to the present world. we consider its pattern to be surely passing, so we shut our ears to its wounded cry. we hide in culture clubs of comfort and passively wait for the end to come.

our influence is limited to the saving of souls and the amassing of arguments that prove us right. we're indifferent to social struggles, unconcerned about injustice, apathetic to the oppressed and impassive to the poor in pain.

our Gospel says nothing to these realities because its a Gospel of another world. our escapist hopes are hung on a futuristic, disembodied reality that will replace the present world. why should anyone be concerned about this world, when there's a better one in the pipeline?

its a Gospel that's appalling. its untrue and its unchristian.

Christ announced a coming kingdom.

a fallen man shall be redeemed. a damaged world shall be renewed. a servant king will be enthroned. his righteous rule shall be restored.

to be a christian is to be a humanitarian.

we cannot turn our faces from a broken world in the escapist hope that it will be replaced. we are saved to be wholly human in this present age of living. our new humanity compels us to get our hands dirty and sow the seeds of a coming kingdom. its a humanity that prepares this world for the rule of its rightful king.

this world is the only world we will ever live in.

the Gospel gives us a portrait of a righteous kingdom and commands us to turn this world into that one. His spirit will guide our passion. His power, sustain our soul. His word assures completion, and His coming, a righteous rule.

in dryness or in health

2010-03-25T03:41:00.004+05:30

authentic spirituality is seasonal

it takes time and a lot of courage to unlearn the demanding message of a difficult Gospel. the struggling christian is ever trying but always failing to live up to the exacting standards of a Gospel that expects peak performance and christlike character at all times and in all circumstances. its unreal and its untrue.

i've been taught that authentic spirituality is marked by constant communion with Christ. for some reason, i took this to mean that this communion was meant to be always rapturous. strangely but wrongly, i've only considered myself to be strong in spirit when my performance is unerring, my feelings are euphoric and my times of prayer are more than blissful. its unreal and its untrue.

philip yancey brings up the difference between farmers and city folk and applies it to the life of prayer.

city people are prone to progress.

we want to see motion thats purely forwards and movement thats only upwards. life in the spirit is expected to resemble the graph of a company that's constantly on the rise. a dip in the chart is a flaw to be fixed. a day without prayer is a crime, unconfessed.

the authentic spiritual life rebels against the heart of the city.

farmers are aware of their limitations. the weather can't be controlled and the crop can't be promised. there are good years and bad years. summers and winters. dryness and rain. farmers learn to work hard and make up their minds to take whatever comes their way.

a season of dryness is not a sign of weakness.

authentic spirituality has room for a time of doubt. its unafraid of fits of rage. it knows the cry of every david. it doesn't fear the jobs that shout.

the psalms resound with fierce complaint. the prophets pour out their pain. Jesus lived in constant communion with the Father and he was led by the Spirit into the wilderness. He knew anxiety and anger, anguish and pain, the sorrow of loss, and labored love without gain. He knew the seasons of true spirituality and He lived through each of them.

i've learnt to live out a spirituality that demands the truth. it knows the wintry chill of doubt and the pleasure of euphoric joy. it doesn't pit one against the other but values both as seasons in one spirituality. we are no less spiritual in a time of doubt, than we are in a day of trust. the same winds that led us to the wilderness will lead us to the land of promise. come the winter or the sun.

joseph's prison

2010-03-22T19:34:00.013+05:30

the best of the persevering believe in the best to come.

i'm a dreamer in a pragmatic world of realists. a joseph to faceless jacob. a son to patient parents. i've been raised to swim against the popular tide of profit and the hungry grasp for gain. i lay claim to an ambition, unspectacular, and a promise unfulfilled.

i thrive on the unconditional favor of faithful friends and the stubborn support of believing parents. its a stable structure that stands on the promise of divine assurance. every joseph finds his dream, if his heart will trust his maker, and his hand will serve his purpose.

its always tempting to give up the chase but a dreamer without his dreams is like an empty sky in indian august. hopeless and uninspiring. dreamers will dream the unthinkable, with a stubbornness, unmeasurable. without fear and without apology. its the only way for us to find fulfillment. the only path that leads to promise.

the moth will fly to his flame though it may work for his undoing. if we burn, we burn as dreamers. there lies no life outside this living.

but joseph's prison is unmerciful.

it turns dreams into delusions and vision to wishful thinking. i determinedly try to quench the dreamer in me. i diagnose myself with delusions of grandeur. i hide from the urge to imagine, and i regard myself unstable. its a wasted effort to keep my increasing sense of anticipation as close to the ground as i can, so that the sting of a coming reality won't disappoint me beyond my ability to bear it.

easier said than done.

i'm so much of a hopeless romantic that i keep telling myself the best is yet to come. everything serves a coming future. its a story we'll learn to laugh about. its a tale we'll tell over dinner. i do believe the day will come, but its difficult to see it happen when your eyes fall to what lies before you.

the truth is, the tunnel that leads to coming light is trying, and it can be dreadful. in an existential sense, i'm secretly dissatisfied with the way things are. i'm patiently, if not faithfully, waiting for the winds to change. yet, though i'm serving my sentence in joseph's prison, i know his release will find this inmate for his hope has found my heart.

i stubbornly believe there is a script to the twisted story and a way out of the gates of prison. in fact, i'm beginning to believe my greatest obstacle is merely my environment. trees don't grow in the shade. a bird can't fly in a cage.

nevertheless, if the story of joseph has taught us anything, its that the trusting will know fulfillment. the wronged will know redemption. the end will justify the journey. the best will come to the persevering.

improper parenting

2010-03-21T00:53:00.007+05:30

i'm an only child to over-indulgent parents.

my father is a patient man with a fervent hope.

he spent his college years breaking athletic records in his sleep and bumming textbooks from his friends so he could study just before the test. he dated my mother for nine years before they hatched a devious scheme to arrange their wedding. they were married in the late seventies in a traditional brahmin ceremony. though i was bitter at first, it took me some time to understand why i wasn't invited to the wedding.

i was born a year later and enjoyed the privilege of being the only child to doting parents.

my mother is endless sacrifice.

she's suffered much and complained too little. she loves without limit and gives without condition. i only hold this against her that when i refused to go to church as a child, she called my bluff when i threatened to leave home. she kept busy while i packed my bags and casually waved goodbye when i walked out the door. to her credit, she refused to mock me when i returned ten steps later.

i grew up ignorant of the privilege it is to have loving parents. i was denied little and given most of everything. i was at the center of an exciting world. my father was an engineer by day and an unschooled bible teacher by night. he had more insight than his elders. upon repeated requests for instruction, he started a rebel bible study that met weekly on thursday nights where he opened the scriptures to a captive audience.

in terms of discipline, i was never struck and rarely punished. it wasn't stated but it was understood. i was expected to learn the way of the disciple by being a witness to their Christlike living. their example was never lacking, though i doubt the depth of the young disciple.

i say this because freedom is vital to creative thought.

i owe my parents the freedom to explore my faith. i was trusted and left to be true to myself, without being afraid to raise tough questions. i owe them the freedom to question the status quo and rebel against the established portrait of successful living. i'm supported in my exploration of endless options because of their implicit faith in my penniless trade.

i'm a son to loving parents and a child to unearthly Father.

i am a writer, blogger, thinker, speaker. i'm unpaid and i'm unsettled. my parents burnt the book on proper parenting and wrote their own rules to raise their son. i'm turning thirty in a week of days. this is a tribute to their stubborn love.

close to the tipping point

2010-03-20T21:10:00.007+05:30

in a day of ceaseless change,

one facet of faith remains quite constant.

he leads the faltering with a firm, unmoving hand

the wilderness remains the way to the promised land

i've been accused of being unsettled, regarded to be impulsive, notorious for being unstable, careless, rash and reckless. i concur without reservation. in fact, i'd be quite disillusioned and despondent, if it wasn't for my stubborn resilience and persistent faith in the way of the wind and the weight of the wilderness.

the wilderness prepared a people for their promise. it was a necessary precursor to the history that was to come. the way of struggle is woven into the fabric of nature. eagles learn to fly with it. caterpillars emerge from cocoons with it. people find their faith from it.

israel's dissenters would have mocked their would-be-conquerors had they been told that the wandering pilgrims took forty years to finish a journey of eleven days. the dissenters would have been short-sighted. their critics, quite simply, blind. if israel tells us anything, its that sometimes the shortest route is not the best one. the quickest is not the ideal.

God delays the rest of promise because the waiting serves a purpose. the testing shapes the spirit and the trial brings true dependence.

i say this to sing my soul to comfort and set my mind at ease. i'm stalking the age of thirty and i'm at the crossroads of a decision. i'm courting doubt with a restless hand and chasing rest with shaky plans.

the promise of potential remains elusive

my place of rest, a dirty blur

a move is more than imminent. a shift is on the way. another chapter is concluding. a new day is close at hand. i've done my time in a trying wilderness. i'm purged, renewed, refreshed. a journey lies before me, but the way remains unsure. the path remains unknown. a sailor looks to sky above. the shore is almost come.

the most pressing question is not merely where i'm going to go, but what will direct the choice i have to make. a praying heart must speak to a reasoned mind. the counsel of the wise must save a fool. a seasoned pilgrim sets his foot on road. once again, he breaks the rules.

dawn to a troubled night

2010-03-16T18:48:00.010+05:30

a false christianity breeds an angry argument

the undernourished church is at odds with a "sinful" world. its drawn a line in dirty sand and built a fence to fix its borders. its us and them. right and wrong. true and false. fact and pure fiction. its the language of division and dissension. its a bad song penned by a worse songwriter. and its a song that's stuck in our heads.

a false christianity raises up christians who walk with an arrogant orthodoxy. a self-righteous swagger that preys on human emotion and thrives on childish fear. it preaches without intelligence, talks when no one is listening, and likes to speak out of turn. its a drunk relative making a scene at a family wedding. its ugly and its untrue.

to be sure, the language of scripture demands true devotion. as a lover to his beloved. as a bride to her treasured groom. its a portrait of sublime oneness. a man shall find his maker. a people have found their God.

the tragic story of this ideal marriage is the birth of a rebellious child. the spirit of deep division. the arrogance of selfish pride.

Jesus is compassion.

full of grace and tender truth.

i would never have known what love is, if i had never known the cross. the church showed me division. the cross unveiled compassion. grace led to peace. compassion turned to sacrifice. love gave its life unto death.

Christ is the head of the church.

the compassion of the risen Jesus, is central to the influence of the christian. to the heart of his church. to the way of his bride.

the Gospel refuses to turn a man against his neighbor.

we need to usher an age that redeems the experience of encountering christians. our disagreements cannot direct our relationships with people. our divisions cannot define their worth.

we need a Gospel that breeds humility. a bride that raises children of compassion. ones who move in grace and love with joy. those who can build bridges where others can only see borders. we will never know the influence of Christ if we do not walk in his compassion.

i refuse to be the argumentative christian. i resist the call to fight. i want to bring joy to the way of being spiritual, and dawn to a troubled night.

we are men

2010-03-16T10:30:00.013+05:30

real men don't need nothing

i'm slow to see the obvious and late to learn the truth. what's commonly known to many, was just revealed to me.

i've been addicted to a dehumanizing portrait of humility for much longer than i'd like to admit. i suppose it grew out of the self-degrading and tragically false picture of the authentic christian - a man immune to the need for approval, impervious to the support of friends, untouched by his emotion, a stranger to petty praise.

i always considered the need for affirmation to be a sign of weakness and the joy of validation to be a nagging flaw. my need for emotional support and my longing for approval was something to be overcome by the force of the Spirit. it was a disease to be quickly cured.

little did i know that the song was out of tune.

i was rebelling against my basic need and fighting the fabric of my inner being. i was rejecting the manner of my making, and i was denying the one who made me. my staunch revolt against the cries of my heart was drying my soul to death.

i was dejected. down. despondent.

i was alone, and i was wrong.

a false christianity demands a stoic humility.

its a sword through a tender spirit.

a dagger to the needful heart.

its taken too long for me to realize the force of affirmation and its ability to empower the hungry heart. we need people to bring our soul to life. God is not enough. i know that sounds unchristian, but its true and its the Gospel.

i've sought to drown this sickly sound of weakness with the stubborn will of independence, but i've only added to the damage. as much as i try to ignore it, there is a desperate cry that comes from the depth of my needy heart. its a cry for a sense of belonging. to be accepted and to be loved.

left to my own devices, i devolve into despair. when i turn my soul to people, i find myself alive. i'm a better version of myself when i'm enjoyed and i'm accepted, when i believe that i am loved.

its difficult and its disturbing, but altogether relieving to accept, and to embrace the way that i've been fashioned. it demands the courage of vulnerability, the risk of trusting people, forsaking independence and asking to be loved.

in the tradition of the mystifying, i've been made with a need for people. i'm alive when i serve sincerely, i find my joy in the joy of others. i am strong when i'm supported. and i need to be encouraged. i seek a stone cold affirmation, the respect of treasured peers. i court the favor of the faithful and the care of a coming eve.

so here i stand, unfinished

i confess that i am human

i am a man and i am needful

i am weak when i'm alone

"it is not good for a man to be alone"

genesis

sleeping child

2010-03-09T20:15:00.006+05:30

indifference breeds irrelevance

the new testament is a volume of personal letters written to particular people for the sake of specific purpose. its the portrait of the birth of a new and united people, out of the divisions of the past. there is neither jew nor gentile, slave nor free, male nor female. the many are now, one in Christ.

still, its not a labor without its pains.
nor do we receive a child without defect.

a man has an affair with his stepmother. a disciple is guilty of segregation. two women cause conflict that needs intervention. leaders part ways over travel plans. spiritual gifts lead to spiritual rifts. infighting brings rise to lawsuits. unity is threatened by heresy. pretenders oppress the apostles. the place of peace becomes a battleground.

the early church was fraught with doubt and despair, chaos and confusion, with characters that were more than compromised. there was division and discrimination. corruption and hypocrisy, falsehood and lies. an in-depth look at the new testament reveals a church that is struggling to serve its Christ.

the infant is older by two millennia, but its grown with its defects.

the new-born church started with the struggles that cripple us now. if it were not for the impassioned letters of its burden-bearing leaders, we would be as infants without their mothers, sheep without their shepherds, a people without any purpose.

the words of the new testament
have the power to change the church.

the church is a child that sleeps in ignorance. it needs a father to speak the truth. the longer we live with a comfortable Gospel, the less we will see of the glory of God.

truth is vital to freedom.

its the mirror we need the most. the church is sinking in a sea of lies. the din of deceit has drowned the truth. we're witnessing the rise of mammon. the faithful remain the few.

Jesus walked in a way that defied the corrupt power structures of religious abuse. He led a radical but unviolent revolution against the biased-and-oppressive, yet oddly-accepted norms of the day. He anointed the neglected with divine dignity and attracted the outsider to himself. the world was alive to the sound of Jesus. it was shaken by his force of influence. in more than many unfortunate ways, the church betrays its master.

our indifference to the way of Christ breeds irrelevance to the world.

we're riding on the back of a tainted history and we're living in a day of a capitalist Gospel. money means more than mission. diplomacy, more than truth. comfort is greater than calling. success, more than lasting fruit. its a Gospel that's unattractive. unimportant and untrue.

we need a quiet rebellion against the self-serving interests of an economic Gospel. we need a people that are vocal without words in a time when words are unwanted. we need a passion infused with hope for a purpose deluged with grace. we need a people more peculiar.
we need a christian more like Christ.

easter came early

2010-03-07T21:24:00.012+05:30

i begin with words from borrowed pen.

christianity went to greece and became a philosophy. it went to rome and became an institution. it went to europe and became a culture. it went to america and became an enterprise. what we've forgotten is that it began in jerusalem as a passion.

peter's proclamation on pentecost was the hope of a risen Christ.
easter had redeemed history. the turmoil of the ages was not a chaotic mess. there was a single strand of meaning, that ran through the mass of madness. it was the hand of cosmic purpose, writing a song out of the senseless, for the weak, the strong, the loveless.

the devotion of the faithful had been redeemed.

the disciples were not deluded. their hands had touched his flesh. the prophets were not peculiar. their voice had told the truth. the romans were not murderers. the man they killed was now alive.
history was in the making. a tenant had left his tomb.

the Gospel is infused with the passion of hope against all odds.

it holds the promise of life for the living dead.

a risen Christ re-altered the way of living. an empty tomb re-opened the heart to believing. there was more to life than its motion. the rules of knowledge had been revised. the living had much to live for. the dead no longer died.

we live in a day of confused christianity.

the image turns against the truth. the form betrays the substance. we've reduced the divine hand behind the exodus to be the hand that leads us into gain. what was once a passionate communal pilgrimage is now a shallow, self-serving religiosity. the bearers of the Gospel are now the ones that it must save.

the church needs a new baptism. we need a fresh anointing. the way things stand, we're in some danger. we're turning believers into cynics.

if christianity is to be attractive, it must return to its roots in passion. its the force that brings the dead to life. the love that brings reconciliation. the concern that feeds the poor and hungry. the hope that brings redemption.

our passion remains, undaunted

like a still, unflickering light

our hope endures, unyielding

for we trust in risen Christ

the sound of surrender

2010-03-04T13:13:00.006+05:30

worship is at its sweetest when it comes from a soul's dejection.

the way out of a wilderness is the practice of stubborn praise and the discipline of firm devotion - the determined affirmation of all things good, in the face of a trying tempest.

some of the greatest hymns of history came out of the conflict of its composers. there's a depth that's given to worship when it comes from those that are broken.

the songs of the psalms are not untamed, emotional outbursts.

quite to the contrary, the structured symmetry of the psalms bear witness to the intentional, determined effort of the sorrowful songwriters to declare the truth of goodness in a time of despairing loss, with the skill of anointed pen.

the chaos of the heart is brought to calm by the disposition of surrender. the waves of an emotional ocean are brought to stillness by the sound of the words of God. the anxious mind of the troubled soul is brought to rest by the song of submission.

men are brought to their knees.

pilgrims are brought to their pasture.

souls are brought to their rest.

when God is affirmed as all-worthy.

worship is the submission of the soul to the power of his tide-turning

Spirit.