As I’ve planned these events, I’ve organized a complicated assortment of worship practices that “feels right” to me. That’s not to say it’s about worship that makes me feel good—what some friends have called worship as “spiritual masturbation”—rather, I’m getting at the idea that there’s no straightforward guide to worship with a group of “spiritual, not religious” folks who are suspicious of the church. So, instinctually as a pastor and leader, I do what I expect might work. Now that I’ve read, The Art of Curating Worship: Reshaping the Role of Worship Leader by Mark Pierson, I have some help.

Mark Pierson’s book describes his curating philosophy as a worship leader in the Baptist Church in New Zealand. Those aware of the experiential worship movement towards interactive prayer stations, Open Space, guerrilla worship, etc. will not be bowled-over with surprise. If anything, the book could be strengthened by shortening and adding some pictures (for real!). But overall, it’s a good, thoughtful foray into the new world of experimental worship practices.

Pierson lays it out clearly in the introduction:

I’m concerned that too few church leaders and so-called worship leaders have more than a single, narrow model for what they do in public, corporate worship. I’m concerned that they seem unaware they are boring their communities to death with shallow, bland worship. I’m concerned that many of these people have spend several years in theological institutions that haven’t prepared them for the realities of worship and spiritual formation with a congregation. I’m concerned that my young grandsons won’t be able to find communities that will nurture their faith without them having to undergo cultural circumcision. All this grieves me greatly.

I take it he’s one of those tell-it-like-you-see-it people! Basically, Pierson loves the church, but also really strives to bring fresh art and culture into worship. He thinks—and shares stories of when—this sustains people in their faith in ways traditional worship does not. The book is a very postmodern, let’s-give-it-a-try, questions-are-good, Jesus-messes-with-our-assumptions type of work. It should definitely be required seminary reading.

Much of the book consists of stories from Pierson’s personal experiences curating worship. While those are helpful, I would have appreciated a broader perspective. Also, the book has little scholarly work to show for it, leaving it open to an all too-common (and worthy) critique with emerging literature: it shows little appreciation for what has come before. That said, a short book can only do so much, and Pierson showed no flippancy towards liturgical studies, he just decides that’s not his turf.

Despite it’s flaws, I’m aware of no better book to really get folks asking questions about how to worship differently. For those in traditional worship settings, The Art of Curating Worship might be a help for folks seeking to claim what about their traditional worship practices they cherish.

A few weeks after finishing the book, I’m left with more questions than answers, which would be good news to Pierson. He writes, “Don’t be afraid to ask and not be able to answer, even during a worship event…Jesus was asked 180 questions in the gospels. He answered only three directly.” Have questions about how one curator of alternative worship practices his craft? This book’s for you.

It seems to be in the headlines every week in Minnesota — “Homelessness Numbers Rise,” “Food Pantries Struggle to Keep up With Demand,” “Income Gap Widens” — our world, and our nation, is hungry. I know this. But, at the same time, the problem is so overwhelming and wide-reaching that it paralyzes me.

When I consider hunger in America, I think back to a youth group activity many years ago for which we were split into different small groups. Each group was to buy and then make an evening meal. The catch: we had a day’s worth of food stamps from which to do it (or something like that, at least). So we went out to the store and found, very quickly, how difficult it is to live on food stamps alone. Nobody went home from that youth group session very full, but we learned a lesson.

Similarly, a few years ago the Michigan and Oregon governors lived for a time on the equivalent to their state’s food stamp aid. In Minnesota, there’s currently a debate raging about whether residents on public assistance should be able to access more then $20 in cash each month.

With this background in mind, I read David Beckmann’s Exodus from Hunger: We Are Called to Change the Politics of Hunger. It’s a good book, helping put the hunger fight in context, both in the U.S and beyond. Beckmann has made a career out of this struggle, and I most appreciated his perspective as a person of faith. The premise of the book is summed up in this word from the introduction:

I’m convinced that the binding constraint [for hunger reduction] is political will, and that stronger leadership from the U.S. government is crucial. I’m also convinced that God is present in this struggle, and that people of faith and conscience should do our part, partly by changing U.S. politics on hunger and poverty issues.

Please don’t put this book down without deciding to do something to help build a stronger political constituency for U.S. policies to provide help and opportunity for hungry and poor people.

Beckmann serves as president of Bread for the World, “a collective Christian voice urging our nation’s leaders to end hunger in our country and the world.” The book is sort of an overview of Bread for the World’s mission, an extended explanation of our current crisis and a work of passionate hope for how we might address it politically.

The book is in three parts. Part one addresses the present crisis with helpful charts and more personal vignettes. Part two hits the faith angle, arguing that caring for the hungry is both a Biblical mandate and would be a boon to America. The third part is a rallying cry for forward movement.

Perhaps my favorite quote from the work comes from British Prime Minister, David Cameron: “Poverty is not acceptable in our country today. Not when we have people who earn more in a lunchtime than millions will earn in a lifetime, not when we understand so clearly how wealth is created and poverty eradicated.” I also especially appreciated Beckmann’s close connection of our call to eradicate hunger as a call from God.

Most of my experience with Bread for the World (beside hanging out with a friend who works there) is participating in their letter writing campaigns to elected officials, what they call “An Offering of Letters.” I’ve also used them to follow hunger-related legislation through the legislative process. I definitely have some friends who scoff at these letter writing campaigns, so let me be clear (and also remind myself): it’s a false choice between either writing legislators and volunteering at food pantries, and it’s most certainly the case that legislators listen to careful cries for hunger-related justice.

So, if you’re feeling overwhelmed with hunger and poverty headlines, or if you just wish to understand the situation surrounding the politics of hunger more clearly, pick up a copy of Exodus from Hunger and feed your soul.

See also: A Study Guide on Exodus from Hunger (written, in fact, by a good friend of mine).

______________________________________________

Purchase @ www.TheThoughtfulChristian.com

Exodus from Hunger
By David Beckmann
40% Discount! Only $9.00!

A few weeks ago, a friend who grew up in North Dakota sent me some book recommendations after he learned I moved to the region. The Bones of Plenty made the list, and I’m so glad.

The story chronicles the plight of a family of farmers near Jamestown in the 1930s. My depression era history is pretty weak, so the novel gave me some significant historical awareness. What I enjoyed most, however, was the depth of Hudson’s main character: George Custer, a farmer trying to get by despite drought and disease, his father-in-law’s close watch, and a less-than-kind landlord. Custer’s personality — both overly optimistic and antagonistic — only makes his character more believable and pitiful.  The way Custer treats his wife Rachel also tags a so sad but so true hyper-masculinity.  Furthermore, his disdain for his daughter being a girl (and not being able to take over the farm) is utterly heartbreaking.

The same thought had crossed my mind, so I wasn’t surprised that several online reviews compared Bones of Plenty to Grapes of Wrath. Hudson isn’t quite Steinbeck, but Bones has that same grasping unrelenting quality, the same humanity vs. the powers that makes Grapes of Wrath so amazing.

So, if you’re up for a novel to savor, pick up the Dakotan Grapes of Wrath: The Bones of Plenty.

“I would be content if this book helped shake our ingrained belief that growth is still an obvious necessary goal our our economy–content if the reader wondered a little the next time he or she heard some newscaster happily declare that the economy had gotten 3% percent larger.  And content, as well, if my work helped shake the idea that there was no alternative to growth save miserable recession.”

Well, McKibben should be content, then, as his book did that and more for this reader.

McKibben has written for The New Yorker, and is the author of, among others, Enough: Staying Human in an Engineered Age, The End of Nature, and The Comforting Whirlwind: God, Job, and the Scale of Creation.

I found Deep Economy a great read, as it both did well to name some of the ridiculousness of our current consumer culture, and provided glimpses into other better ways.

The book is broken into five sections.  The first, “After Growth” chronicles how the economy and society changed after the invention of the steam engine.  This section includes a discussion on both the environmental impact of growth — basically, bad — and the sociological impact — not quite as good as we’d like to think.

I’ll let you guess what section two is about, “The Year of Eating Locally,” but it does have a more hopeful feel because a) it’s nearly possible to eat completely locally in many parts of the US and b) buying and eating local is a fast-growing trend.

The third section, “All for One, or One for All” investigates America’s passion for individualism through many different lenses, making the — almost Christian — argument for a new way to vision community.

Fourthly, in “The Wealthy of Communities” McKibben takes the reader deeper into such communities of mutual support and local-mindset who have a different idea of progress than just that of one where the individual prospers.

Finally, “The Durable Future” anticipates the positive places such a philosophy could take a culture.  McKibben’s vision isn’t quite rosy, but I appreciated that it’s not as dour as some environmentalists.

Though sometimes a bit plodding with statistics and stories, I found Deep Economy to be a fair, though troubling assessment of where our consumer culture has taken us.  At many points I appreciated how easily his prose and perspective could be adapted in Christian circles.  I can only hope that more will heed McKibben’s words and begin to make choices, buy products, and sustain relationships that make our economy not just deeper, but richer too.

Pure, Terra Elan McVoy, (Simon Pulse, Hardcover, 9781416978725, 336pp).  Find it on IndieBound here, Amazon here, or better yet, high tail over to your indie book store.

Ok, so I have to admit I felt a little strange reading this book in public. I’m all for pink, but the cover does scream, “young adult girl.” In actual fact, though, I’d recommend this novel to any person interested in the challenges of being a young high school American girl, especially if you’re concerned with the moral questions related to purity rings.

Written in the remarkable voice of a high schooler, Terra Elan McVoy explores the depths of a group of close friends who pledge themselves at church not to have sex until marriage. They mark this pledge with purity rings and all is hunky dory until one of the friends admits she and her boyfriend have broken the pledge — and she’s not even particularly remorseful. After all, they’re in love!

So the girls have to decide what do do about the pledge-breaker, what the Bible really says, and how to cope when the true horror happens — her parents find out.

I get the impression that many young adult books tell the stories of girls and their high school antics without having much at all to do with real life these days. McVoy’s characters, though, have after school jobs and homework and cell phone restrictions. These real students deal with the real challenge brought on by a certain type of Christian movement, the black and white, false ease and clarity of purity rings.

So, if you work with high school youth, read this book. If you have high school children, read this book. If you’re in high school yourself, I totally recommend it even more.

And, I have to admit, it feels extra special to be able to give this book a ringing endorsement because I happen to know the author quite well. Terra Elan McVoy is a former babysitter of mine, a fellow First Pres Tallahassee member, and, now, a good friend and the manager of my favorite independent book store, Little Shop of Stories in Decatur. She’s purely good. Read it.

Oh, almost forgot: check out Terra’s website as well.

Alexie’s prose is eerily simple. His language is direct and careful without being conspicuous, and it’s completely without glamor.  Alexie lets the stories speak for themselves — and speak they do.

A brilliant aspiring Native American politician sees his career ruined after a racist remark on a basketball court. A young writer journeys to meet the only published poet of her tribe, but finds he’s not what she expected. A couple’s perfect love is split in two by an easy lie, and worked back together over a messy lifetime. A nobody’s grief over his parent’s death finds its life (and death) on the basketball court.

At times, reading these stories I really did laugh out loud. In others, I feared to turn the page on account of sadness.

Perhaps my favorite, “Do You Know Where I Am?” would work as a story to begin pre-marital counseling. It’s a tough tale, a graphic tale in some places –Alexie is clearly not writing for prim and proper Presbyterians– but, in twenty pages, it gets at the challenges and joys, harsh realities and bubbling emotions of a lasting relationship in remarkable ways. Its a story about trust, love, sex, brutality, forgiveness, families, and identity all at the same time.  Every couple should read it and discuss it before getting married.

Clearly, I love this guy. Anyone else read him much? If not, order a copy of Ten Little Indians immediately, and I’ll post on more when I read it.

Another section of the book “Pastoral: Grass” consists, in large part, of a description of how grasses are used (or not used) in farming.  Specifically, Pollan recounts in engrossing detail, his week-long visit to Polyface Farm, a remarkably sustainable farm in Virginia.  Though the farm produces a significant amount of produce  (chicken, beef, eggs, rabbits, etc.) Farmer Joel a self-described “Christian-conservative-libertarian-environmentalist-lunatic,” primarily understands himself as a “grass farmer” since grass–its diversity and health–is the key to his sustainable farm.  Alternating between riffs on Polyface’s history, the complexity of grass, and the how-to of sustainable farming, Pollan closes the section with comments from Farmer Joel’s loyal customers, some of whom drive for hours to purchase the “chicken that tastes more like chicken” from a farmer they know and trust.  Pollan even gets to work on a mini chicken processing assembly line beside Farmer Joel, his trusty interns, and a few helpful neighbors.  The journal of Pollan’s week at Polyface would have been enough to make the book a fascinating read, but how he subsequently describes the larger questions of sustainability, local agriculture, and “the non bar-code people” makes his time at the farm a fruitful field-trip indeed.
Finally, in “Pastoral: The Forest” Pollan squeezes in ruminations on the ethics of vegetarianism, vegan lifestyle, several stories of hunting and foraging expeditions, and a detailed description of a gourmet and almost completely foraged meal.  This last supper with characters from Pollan’s northern California foraging pursuits is noteworthy, perhaps, but a slightly disappointing end for such a riveting read.  Pollan is so careful not to instruct the reader how to eat that he can become overly discursive about his four meals.  This is the book’s conceit, I suppose, one that leaves me questioning, but which is perhaps exactly as Pollan’s hopes.
Pollan is so careful–perhaps, too careful–to invite the reader to process the omnivore’s dilemma oneself.  I would have welcomed an occasional barb at the industrial food industry or lapsed organic hippies or even a faint suggestion of Pollan’s view of an ethical way forward.  That said, one cannot truly invest in the process of reading The Omnivore’s Dilemma without beginning to mull over the bitter dilemma oneself.  And maybe this is Pollan’s goal.  As Pollan quotes Wendell Berry, “We are what we eat eats.”  This realization raises more questions than it answers, but they are worthwhile questions on which to chew.

1)  Following Jesus in a Culture of FEAR by Scott Bader-Saye
(Grand Rapids: Brazos, 2007) 160p.

     Good book. Bader-Saye a solid job of describing contemporary America’s culture of fear, how the appropriate Christian response. Not too technical, but with strong theological underpinnings. Good read.

2)  Oh Shit! It’s Jesus!: The relevance of Jesus without all that religious crap by Steve Hughes

     Nice try, but poorly written and elementary. Folksy, but without redeeming charm. I don’t recommend it.

The book came highly recommended to me by a friend whose taste I trust, so I didn’t read the book jacket description (the best way to read books, by the way). Set in America in 1915, the main character and story-teller is Monte Becket, a one-hit-wonder adventure novel writer who quit his job in the post office but fails to do much right. Becket sort of reminded me of Frank Bascombe in Richard Ford’s novels (recommended too, but much more difficult reads). Both are appealing due to their failures, honestly, and innate American optimism.

Well, a resident of Northfield, Minnesota (which I was proud to call home for four years), meets a reclusive neighbor from down the river. The neighbor is kind, full of the most amazing stories, and has a rather dubious history. To the two set off for a six-week trip to Mexico, a journey of mutual benefit. Glendon, the neighbor, must appease his conscience and confess his faults to a previous wife from his Mexican outlaw days. Becket needs to find himself and discover his true calling whether as a writer, a postman, a husband, a father, or a just a failure.

Adventures ensue. Tears and laughter are shared. Hope is kindled and lost.

I won’t ruin the story, but I will say it contains my new favorite baptism scene in modern fiction. It’s beautiful, hilarious, and so complex it could be used in ten sermons, twenty different ways.

[Ok, here's just a bite if your curious...

"A new fear entered me, ‘Glendon, what if it's wrong for me to do it? Suppose I imperil something'"
‘Imperil what?'
‘My immortal soul,' I rather hissed.
‘Why Becked,' he said, with a warm familiarity I found irksome.
‘I'm serious. What if He's got some rule about this? What if God hates impostors?'
He looked bemused, ‘If you're afriad, then I think you're no impostor.'"  ]

I’ll be reviewing some churchy non-fiction books next week, but if your taste is anything like mine, you’ll more enjoy the truthful fiction of Enger’s So Brave, Young, and Handsome.

Just for fun, and for some linking love, here’s some other random blog reviews of the novel:  Crookedshore, Erik Emery Hanberg, and BitterSweetLife.

Hokey Pokey is about calling and life’s stories and Turner’s take on where and when the two shall meet. The work seems to be targeted at folks trying to figure out their vocational lives or who enjoy looking back at a previous vocational muddle. Though Turner’s work is far from academic and a bit touchy-feely for me, he does approach vocation from several angles and discusses it in fairly wide-ranging ways.

For Turner, vocation is not about one specific path that God has for you, nor even about one’s occupation, but about how one lives one’s entire life. Fair enough. He emphasizes the importance of asking questions, staying open to new possibilities, and that questions of vocation can be quite tricky.

Throughout the work, Turner tells longish anecdotes about himself or others, describes interviews with others on vocation, and asks discussion questions to the reader.

I wanted to like this book, but I didn’t. Turner’s more surface level approach and clunky writing just didn’t do anything for me. He’s got some good humor in there, but also some theology that makes me a bit squirmy.

If someone came to me with vocational questions, I’d recommend Parker Palmer’s “Let Your Life Speak” long before Turner’s Hokey Pokey, but perhaps he’s writing to a different audience than I’m used to. He comes from a more conservative evangelical background, and seems to take on questions from this perspective rather than mine in the liberal mainline.

Hokey Pokey isn’t quite what life’s all about and it’s not a grand read, but it does take on important questions regarding vocation. Writing a book on vocation is neither horseshoes nor hand grenades, but perhaps a close miss is well enough.