I have been reading Barack Obama's "Dreams From My Father" over the last few days. It has captivated me so much to the point that I have read 100 pages in two days, two sittings! My roomate Danilo recommended that I pull it off my own shelf and read it (after all I bought it over a year ago, I might as well use it for something besides keeping my microwave stand leveled!).

First, I should step back for a moment to say that a lot has been on my mind lately. I would sum it all up by saying that my life post-seminary has been a complex array of utter confusion and disappointment, while every ray of hope seems to have been smashed by whatever one may call it--my inability to market my skills, or this economic super-recession that we are in. Well, I do not really intend avoid responsibility for my lack of personal progress in the almost two years since my graduation from seminary. But, I do need to say that it has not been easy for me in these 22 months since May, 2008, trying to figure out my life's direction, and then hearing the Spirit call me to "stay" on one trail and then to "pursue" another road, only to see my resume rejected time and again.

Obama has been on a road- which bore a section resemblant of the narrow and windy path that I find myself on right now. He once found himself on the verge of despair, about to give up in the world- on a road where the tires could barely keep him from plunging into the darkest of the deep. From childhood he knew that he was different and that he lived in another man's world. The burden of staying true to the people with whom he identified while at the same time trying to chart out his own future, proved difficult, and almost fatal. He lost hope briefly until a personal friend saw in him the potential to make a difference. This friend of him had to scold him for giving up on the state of affairs and conceding to the whims of the one in power. Rather, this friend pointed out to him that he had the education, position, and strength to speak out and to make a difference, regardless of what other people around him said, and regardless of the realities staring him in the face.

After finishing part one of this book (Obama's life from his familial origins to his post-collegiate years) I have come to realize that I am in a similar stage of life that he is in. In the previous two years since I have finished seminary I have had no life direction or purpose but to exist. But I thank God that he has been slowly revealing to me the proper path. Although I prefer a clear and sunny day where I can see tens of miles ahead, the day is foggy with only one third mile of visibility. Friends and roomates have granted me the grace of their listening ears, support, and motivation as I have trailed the wet, slippery slopes of this narrow and windy path.

And I almost gave up on everything this week. I auditioned for a music education program at a well acclaimed music school which happens to only be a few miles from my graduate alumnus, and has been in the back of my mind ever since before I moved to Kansas City over one half of a decade ago. One might argue that this might have been the real incentive for my personal relocation from California to Missouri.

As I write this my Pandora application on my iPhone is playing the track titled "Jesus Will Still Be There," sung by Point of Grace. I am suddenly reminded of my high school years when I went with my youth pastor and over twenty other teenagers around my age on a tour from Central California up and down the Western sea board on a two-week road trip, while visiting churches and providing them with a well choreographed choral presentation of a gospel message to their congregations. This happens to be one of the sangs that we sang.

This was and still is a very moving song for me. I wonder if it is a coincidence, or God-timing for me that my pastor at Kansas City First Hispanic Church of the Nazarene (Rev. Leonel de Leon) preached on a similar topic this last Sunday. His message was particularly that God would neither leave nor forsake the people of Israel. This was a promise from Yahweh to His people, and a reminder of his covenant with Abraham, that he would bless those who blessed His people and that He would curse those who would curse His people. He would be their God. That was the condition. That they would remember who their God is.

Where am I going with this? I am coming to a point in which I think that my lack of focus and disorientation may finally be replacing itself with a state of curiosity and trust in what God may hold in the future. This is not about me, however. And this is where the sermon ties the experience of Obama to my own experience. Neither to say that Obama necessarily put all his faith in God, nor that God's presence was the successor to the story of his troubles. Rather, it is to say that the confusion of my recent life may me brought back into focus when reapplied to realizing the launching pad from which I have come.

More on this later.

I was driving one of those UPS sprinter vans to a distant location for an early a.m. delivery, which gave me some time for some 'me' time. And for no good reason my mind wandered onto the topic of the Christian faith's missional character and what this implies for voters in a democracy. In this time of political shift toward the 'left wing' I have been challenged to think critically how I can avoid equating my Christian convictions with a particular political party or with a particular candidate. Since sometime in college I have lived by the words that Sojourners magazine published during the 2004 presidential election, "God is not a Republican or a Democrat." Furthermore, in a recent note posted by one of my Facebook friends (J. Paul Pepper), a remark was made that I see as typical of many 'right winged' Christians--that Obama's speech held in esteem "unbelievers" in addition to Muslims, etc. I responded that Obama must represent everyone--and not just the Christians.

In this respect, I am challenged to recognize that we Christians must realize that we are not the only voters in this country, the United States. If Christians were the only voters, then either our country would consist of 100% Christians, or it would not be a true democracy. History has shown that oppression and conflict have resulted from one religious group exerting itself over and above another. We therefore must realize that our role as voting United States citizens who happen to be of the Christian faith is not to exert our Christian convictions through the means of human law and enforcement. Otherwise, we would become something other than a true democracy.

Being a Christian in a democratic state therefore means that we no longer place our hope in its laws and judicial system for our way of life. Rather, our hope is in the heavenly Kingdom of God that Christ will establish upon his return to earth. We must remember this before we try to shape the incumbent ruling authority into that Kingdom. It is not us, but God who brings on the kingdom of God. We merely cooperate with God in its anticipation, and then we participate in in once it arrives. We must also remember that Christ called us to deny ourselves and follow him.

Yes, we of course need to find means through which to organize our society on order to maintain some form of peace and justice, as well as to provide for the economic needs that all humans have in common. And this is where this note is headed. As a Christian living in a democratic state, I find that it would be a contradiction of my convictions to disallow the voice of my non-Christian fellow-human. I am reminded of the words from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians: "For there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, ...[and] neither male nor female." Little needs to be said in regard to this, because it is quoted often enough that it means for me pretty much the same as it does for any other Christian reading this. Furthermore, Jesus recalled that one of the Ten Commandments instructs us to "Love your neighbor as yourself--[even your enemies]." Am am challenged to love the unbelievers and atheists--even those who use violence in the name of a religion that is different from mine--because I am not a United Stated citizen before I am a citizen of God's Kingdom. These passages instruct me that if I call myself a Christian, I will find significance in each person on earth--even if their religion is different from mine.

Furthermore, Christ has called upon us to take our crosses an follow him. We are Christ-ians, and receive our identity from our focus on being like Christ. Most important to being like Christ is bearing upon one self His selflessness and others-centeredness. In addition to this, he bore the cross for all humans--Jew and Gentile--so that ALL may receive him. Note that He did not wait to make himself vulnerable until only after everyone bowed to him. Rather, he made himself vulnerable in hopes that our response would be the same.

As Christians we can no longer confide in the assumption that the United States Christian country. We must realize that we are not the only people here on earth. I confess that I will acknowledge that I am basing this argument on one educated guess. The Pauline passage that stated "...neither Jew nor Greek..." But it is important to accept the fact that our faith is built on nothing less than Christ's obedience to the Father--that it, total selflessness and total vulnerability created the danger that he might lose his preferential status for the sake of including all people into his kingdom.

In conclusion, I have come to realize that it is a self-contradiction for me to call myself a Christian and at the same time demand that my country give preference to MY convictions above everyone else's. Being a Christian is never about making everyone believe what you believe. Rather, being a Christian is everything about putting the other person before me even if it means that the Christian political agenda does not get heard as well as I would like it to. Perhaps, however, I will make new friends, and they will see the true Jesus living inside me, and they will want to have some part of the hope that is living inside of me. After all, the Christian faith is a missionary religion. But, it is missional through love--not rule or force.

Study: Most Children Strongly Opposed To Children’s Healthcare

Sin Metaphor...

My friend is looking for some help in brainstorming a more helpful sin analogy. Help him out!

http://www.chuckp3.com/2008/07/good-metaphors-for-sin.php#links

Last week I was in Illinois visiting some friends on my way home from picking up a new car. According to my grandfather I was only 20 miles or so from the cemetery where some of my extended Nowlin family is buried. Now, this knowledge is enlightening for me, because it is the first time in my 27.6 years that I have had my "long lost" Nowlin relatives within my own reach. I call them "long lost" because around the time my father (the middle of three children) was three years old, his father apparently made a break from the Nowlin family and changed the pronunciation from N-ow-lin (as in c-ow) to N-oe-lin (as in f-oe).



Thus, on the final leg of the trip, I traveled 20 miles to Greenburg, IL, to the Mount Auburn Cemetery to look for the Nowlin grave stones. After 20-30 minutes of searching I found some of whose names I recognized, but were not confirmed as relatives. I continued for another ten minutes after this as I worked my way back toward my car. Strangely, to my surprise, I missed the fact that I had apparently parked within 20 feet of two more Nowlin stones that I had not seen. I was very glad to have found them, because the names on these two immediately rung bells. I got on my cell phone and called my dad in California to confirm that in fact these were my great-grand parents and great aunt and uncle. I was suddenly struck at awe that I was, for the first time, standing right were some N-ow-lin relatives had stood. I was in the stomping grounds of the ancestors who gave me my last name. I felt almost like an adopted person who had found their birth parents--except for that this was held in common with my immediate uncles (and father) who have had general awareness of this distant heritage.



Apparently, my uncle Chris Nowlin has referred to his father (my grandfather) with the old pronunciation. He once spoke to his daughter (my cousin) about grandpa N-ow-lin, rather than N-oe-lin, as I had always known him. He subsequently looked at me and mentioned that the "name is really N-ow-lin." This struck interest in my search for this Nowlin heritage. I remembered that in my teen years I considered introducing myself by the old pronunciation once I entered full adulthood. This I never did. Yet, I find that when I spell my name to someone over the phone, the old pronunciation sounds like it is spelled; the current pronunciation makes space for all kinds of spelling errors. Thus, with the history of the Nowlin surname and the subsequent difficulty related to its variations, I more and more seldomly correct people if they pronounce it the old way (since according to my uncle the old pronunciation 'is the way it really is.'

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