Urban Perception (Part Two)

"So how do you live down there?" I'm never sure how to answer that question. Just the other night another suburbanite posed the question to me, thoroughly amazed by our urban lifestyle. It's always difficult for me to articulate the appropriate response. Snarkiness would be the most fun way to reply, but it wouldn't be useful. Or I could respond with a guilt inducing statement, such as, "At least I GOT TO CHOOSE to live down here." But my standard response is to merely reveal to them that I feel safe living here.

As a resident, I can attest that it's just not that bad living in the city; as long as you and the people in your household are not engaged in illegal drug trafficking, then you're going to be relatively fine. But, unfortunately, crime does take place here. And it's that crime that causes people to perceive entire communities like ours as dangerous.

So if people avoid Walnut Hills because it's unsafe, what exactly IS safe?

Is it an absence of crime? Is it the ability to leave my front door unlocked over night? Is it the removal of blight from my eyesight? I'd suggest that, for most people, it's an inexplicable state. It's a simple feeling that puts you at ease. An example of this: I spent a few days in downtown Indianapolis last summer for a convention and quite a few people commented to me how they felt safer there than in downtown Cincinnati. I tried to get an explanation as to why, and they couldn't cite any discernible fact. It was just a feeling. Personally, as I've only been urinated upon in one of these areas, I continue to view my town as safer. Still, it is this perceived safety that determines whether or not we will tolerate an area.

It's the perception of safety is the main reason that people prefer the suburbs; when I am safe, the thinking goes, I can let my guard down and feel comfortable. When I lived in a suburban context, many of my daily actions were on autopilot. I wouldn't think twice whether or not I was in a bad part of the 'burbs. The ability to function without thought towards safety allowed me to live life differently. I was, in essence, freer.

But safety is a fleeting concept and must be maintained through effort; there are always threats. In a suburban mindset, maintenance of safety is mostly spatial: if I can keep a buffer zone between myself and what I perceive to be dangerous, I am safe. And this is why the NIMBY (Not In My BackYard) reaction is so prevalent in suburban communities.

A local example: recently, the conversation about public housing in Cincinnati has increased. Some suburban communities that accepted federal funds are going to be forced to increase their number of public housing options, including the Section 8 voucher program. These suburbs are vowing to fight this expansion (even though they have no legal recourse) because they see it as an affront to their way of life. Understand the thinking behind this: increased poverty nearby brings increased crime and a loss of safety. One of these communities is Green Township, the suburb in which I grew up, and a community already losing the safety buffer. Suburban sprawl, which resulted in the net-growth of these community, continues to lead people to resettle further and further from the city core, maintaining this spatial separation of safety.

It's not just happening in Cincinnati; it's an American phenomenon, assisted by the vast amount of land in our nation. With few natural borders to stop it, people can (and will) keep sprawling.

But, eventually, something is going to give.

We've seen it happen in the American southwest, where McMansions sit vacant (and some are subdivided for government housing). Maybe it will be the long commutes, or the flooded housing market, or the revival of the inner-city, or the escalating price of petroleum—whatever the case, people will no longer be able to keep their safety buffer zone. They will be forced to come face-to-face with the very thing they tried to escape.

So if this perception of safety is fleeting, how, then, do we live? More on that soon.

Urban Perception (Part One)

Some things set me off more quickly than others. This past weekend, the Cincinnati Enquirer published an article concerning the merging of municipal services of some of our region's smaller towns and villages. No big deal, really; it's an economic reality in this day and age. But while the article was mediocre, the introductory paragraph that caught my eye. It read:

"After enduring the frequent Bang! Bang! Bang! of gunshots while living in Walnut Hills, Phillip and Erin Smith wanted to move to a safer but affordable community."

And there you go.

It might not seem like much to you, but it was a very big deal to me. That opinion statement about my neighborhood, delivered as fact, continues to mesh into our metropolitan's psyche. I know that the vast majority of Greater Cincinnatians have never ventured into Walnut Hills out of fear. They somehow think it's godless Gotham in need of a Dark Knight. But I know dozens of people in this neighborhood who absolutely love living here and wouldn't think of living anyplace else. So I shot off this letter to the editor:

The Enquirer's stereotypical opinion of our region's urban communities is tiring. In a recent article about the merging of municipal services, reporter Steve Kemme utilizes his opening paragraph to continue this negative polemic. By describing Philip and Erin Smith's move to "a safer but affordable community," and by using the onomatopoetic, "Bang! Bang! Bang!" he likens my neighborhood of Walnut Hills to the lawless Wild West. It could not be further from the truth.

I have lived in Walnut Hills for six years now and have rarely heard actual gunshots. In the summer months, you might hear children setting off fireworks that, to the untrained ear, can be confused as gunfire. I heard guns discharged much more frequently when we lived in Cincinnati's northern suburbs than I have living in the inner-city. And our dropping crime statistics attest that Walnut Hills is much safer than local media would ever care to report.

My wife and I are excited to be raising our five-year-old daughter in Walnut Hills. While some may not view it as attractive as a secluded suburban enclave, it is our paradise. Living among a socio-economically, racially, and ideologically diverse people presents us with unique opportunities that cannot be quantified. Throwaway insults, which denigrate neighborhoods like ours, continue to prove that this newspaper is out of touch.

Steve Carr, Walnut Hills

They posted my letter in their online edition and it elicited several responses. Nearly all of them were typical for when such an opinion is stated.

"Walk down the sidewalk outside Walnut Hills Kroger along MacMillan then get back to me."

Good suggestion. Actually, I do walk there very much. I've never had any problems with anyone.

"Maybe there's a lot of background noise by Steve's residence or possible he has his house for sale. What ever it is, his reason for living there smacks of balderdash."

No background noise that I'm aware of. Now we did have the house for sale last year. We were trying to exchange the house for a condo, staying in Walnut Hills. But I still don't fully understand the rationale behind that comment. Still, kudos for using the word, "balderdash."

And, finally, my personal favorite: "Well Stevie, I live in New Haven and NEVER hear gunshots. You only hear them 'rarely'/ Isn't that still too much????"

I love how he calls me "Stevie." We must be friends. But let's focus in on this response.

I have been to New Haven. It's a blip of a town outside Harrison, Ohio. You're a good ten minutes drive into civilization (if you consider Harrison as such), but you're basically living rurally. Chances are, this anonymous commenter was reared in a rural/suburban environment and moved out to New Haven to get the best of both worlds: living secluded but within distance of amenities. The commenter preferred to live in a safe place, removed from the possibility of harm. This is his (making the assumption that the commenter is male) paradise.

To him, Walnut Hills is the antithesis of this dream. So not only does he choose his lifestyle, but he feels obligated to take pot shots at communities like mine because it affirms the decision he made. This New Havenite is not alone in this position. Read the forums on local media websites and you will observe all sorts of vitriol against urban areas. And, in my opinion, the Cincinnati Enquirer panders towards this position. It is people like this commenter who consume their product. And, in an anemic newspaper market, sales takes precedent over objectivity. If you were to spend a week trolling Cincinnati media, you would find numerous examples of this perspective interwoven in news stories, painting the inner-city in a negative light.

"But the inner-city is where the crime is taking place," the cynic responds.

I will agree, to a point. While violent crime obviously occurs in urban areas, it does not discriminate by context; for example, just weeks after we moved to Walnut Hills, a young girl was murdered within half-a-mile of our former suburban abode. While these stories are reported, the media tends to paint stronger connections between crime and community in the inner-city than it does elsewhere. And even though it's subtle, it's a subliminal message that will entrench itself into viewers' minds. Don't believe me? Watch your local news and be on the look out for the easiest sound byte a reporter can get is, "I can't believe it could happen here."

Of course they can't. Because they've become inclined to believe that crime can only happen where it's supposed to: in "those bad neighborhoods." And that's why they chose instead to live in their safe community. So when crime comes to their front yard, they're shocked. This reality on which they've based their life now has gaping holes. Paradise lost.

All of this gets me to the issue I want to wrestle with: how does our perception of safety affect our lives?

More on this soon.

Keep Truckin'

Sure, it's Father's Day, and that's awesome, but today marks another special occasion: Ten years ago today I bought my Ford Explorer.

I bought it when I was first employed at CCU (and now I'm back working there) from Walt Sweeney Ford on Glenway Avenue. It had 20,000 miles on it and it's now at 125,000 miles; we always use Kelly's more fuel-efficient car for longer trips. It's been an incredibly useful SUV, as I can haul people and various other cargo. And I do refer to it as a truck, because it is. I'm not sure I'll go the SUV route when its days are over, but I'm hoping that won't be for quite a long time. I'm hoping to drive it until it dies

It's by far the longest I've ever owned any one vehicle. The Exploder and I have been through a lot together:

• A trip to Florida
• One accident (lady t-boned me when she ran a red light)
• A rebuilt engine (under an almost expired warranty, thankfully)
• One break-in (and two unsuccessful attempts)
• A continual problem with an Internal Air Control Valve (if you hit it with a hammer, it works longer)
• And hundreds of assorted memories

I'm not sure how many more years I'll get out of her, but me and this car are close. I'm looking forward to running it into the ground.

The Power of Words

Today marks the 200th anniversary of the birthday of Harriet Beecher Stowe. She was the author of one of the greatest American novels: Uncle Tom's Cabin. This piece of literature, published in 1852, convinced many skeptical Americans to adopt an anti-slavery position; the book is viewed as one of the major influencers of the Civil War. Upon meeting Stowe, President Abraham is said to have remarked, "so you're the little woman who wrote the book that made this great war." I love that a person with a perspective was able amplify it to stratospheric levels using only words. Although I've never fully read Uncle Tom's Cabin*, I think of it fondly because of my neighborhood. Harriet moved to Walnut Hills when her father, Lyman Beecher, took the presidency of the Lane Seminary (located where the Cadillac dealership on Gilbert Avenue stands today). Here she met her husband, Calvin Stowe, who was a professor at the seminary. In 1848, Harriet's young son died of cholera, and she could not escape the grief she associated with Cincinnati. She left two years later but was able to utilize her experiences while living here for her book. Harriet traveled throughout the region and saw slavery firsthand in Kentucky. She even had a friendship with John Rankin, a Presbyterian minister who was a conductor on the Underground Railroad.

Stowe's Cincinnati home still stands in our community. It is well-maintained by a local group of racially diverse women who wish to honor Harriet's legacy. It's yet another reason I'm proud to live in this neighborhood.

On the day of her birth, I'm grateful for those like Harriet Beecher Stowe who use their talents to make the world change the way we see things.

__________

*I tend to lose focus with the book's antiquated language but I continually come back to it for insight. It's in public domain—available free online and in audio format too.

Deciphering Boston

As of this evening, I've completed week one of my two weeks here in Boston. While it feels longer, general busyness has also made it feel like I just arrived; I'm thoroughly enjoying the experience. So to let you know how I've adjusted, here are five observations for a Sunday night. 1. It's downright pretty around here While friends at home were sweating out summer-like temperatures, spring is just taking root here; the temperatures haven't left the mid-sixties. The climate accompanying the rich green foliage releases the beauty of this place. The seminary where I'm taking classes is located on Boston's North Shore, so I even snuck over to the Atlantic Ocean one night. It was absolutely gorgeous. There are little beach towns dotting the shore, but they seem more refined than those in Florida. I snapped some pictures that I'll try to post online once I can snag a camera cord.

Also, I keep telling Kelly that it just "looks" like New England here. I wasn't sure how to clarify this (and I'm not sure I still do). The seminary is in a suburban/rural area where the towns just look like a postcard. But I think I've nailed down the classification to wooden houses (very little brick), with an abundance of greenery and natural stone walls. I'd love if someone else could help my clarify what I'm talking about.

2. Driving is different Boston drivers are cordially rude. I've been cut off more in a week here than I've been in the past two years in Cincy. But my guess is that the layout of the roads contributes to this situation. On-ramps are much more abbreviated here so, if you don't cut someone off, you'll never make it home. Also, the design here significantly reduces the number of left turns. For example, to get into my hotel parking lot, I'm forbidden from turning left. So I have to pass the hotel and circle around an expressway ramp to get on the correct side of the street so I can make a right turn into the parking lot. There is no explanation for how annoying this is. I'm sure it causes fewer accidents, but it does so at the cost of making me lose my mind. Major dislike.

3. The food is similar I have seen practically every chain restaurant imaginable including (shocker) Boston Market. Apparently roast beef is the Boston equivalent of Skyline Chili. I don't get it, nor have I tried yet. I figure I've eaten roast beef many-a-time in my life and can continue to survive without sampling this cultural staple. We'll see if I sample some before I leave town.

4. It's more Chicago than New York This is one of the largest metropolitan areas in the US that I have never visited before. I was wondering what can of "vibe" it would transmit and it's still a pretty small town feel. When you walk the streets of Manhattan, you can't help but feel a closed-off attitude. But the people here have been genuinely kind. As I walked in downtown Boston the other day, I had numerous people on the street say "hi." It's big, but it's not obnoxiously big. I'm fascinated by it all.

Plus, the cost of living is just ridiculous up here. I continually wonder how much money people around here make, because practically everything up here (except gas) is ten cents to a dollar higher than it is in the Midwest. Specifically . . .

5. About fountain drinks This is just an example of where one of my foibles intersect with this city. Since I first arrived, I kept looking for a place where I could nab a fountain Diet Coke. I stopped in quite a few gas station convenience stores and there where none. Since I came up zeros, I resigned myself to stopping in at a Burger King to get a large fountain Coke. The price: $2.50. Unbelievable. I asked some locals who said they just don't drink it as much.

Fortunately, however, this is the week that McDonalds started their summer pricing of $1 drinks, so I just might make it after all. But this served as confirmation that I would never be able to live here. It's just inhuman the way they operate.

One week to go, but I'm feeling like I'm getting the hang of it. And since I'll do this again in the next few years, maybe I'll get even better at Boston. We'll see what I learn.

Steve's Not Here

So why are you in Boston? Good question. Thanks for asking.

About a year and a half ago, I was (still) taking classes at Cincinnati Bible Seminary. I was thinking of getting another Masters degree (three's a charm?) and then decided to explore my options. In the theological realm, the Master of Divinity is THE professional degree. At the time, it was a 90-hour degree and, even though I had over 60 grad hours, it would've taken me even longer than 30 hours to complete the degree. So that wasn't a realistic option in my book.

The highest professional degree in the ministry field is the Doctor of Ministry (it's like the J.D. for lawyers). In order to get into these programs, the MDiv is the prerequisite. But many of the doctoral programs I examined had MDiv equivalencies—shortcuts if you will. I just had to prove that I had enough ministry experience to warrant the shortcut, listing all of the conferences and learning experiences I've accumulated in the past 15 years. It worked. I was accepted into the DMin program at Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary, located just northeast of Boston.

I flew out here Sunday afternoon and I'll be here through next Friday. It's a twelve days of residency, which I'll repeat in 2012 and 2013. If I make it through, including my massive thesis project, I'll earn my DMin in 2014.

So for me, I return to, "why?" I'm quite the homebody. I love being around Kelly and Kaelyn; saying goodbye to them at the airport on Sunday broke my heart. So why in the world would I leave them unless I had to? Why am I embarking on this journey? Here are my reasons (and I promise it's not just so that people will call me "doctor").

1. To continue to strengthen our church. The rest of my life will be intertwined with Echo Church. I know that there are things that I need to know that I don't know that will help our congregation. This course of study will be foundational to the work I'll do with Echo in my forties, fifties, and sixties. To better minister to our community and our city, I need to be here now.

2. To assist me in the classroom. I've thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity I've had to teach at Cincinnati Christian University. Through teaching, however, you begin to realize how much you really don't know about a subject. I know that I'll be involved in some aspect of ministry preparation throughout the rest of my career. If I'm serious about teaching, I need to do what's best for my students and know more than I already do.

3. To keep sharpening my skills. I like to read. I like to learn. I believe I'm a master of self-education. But when left to independent study, we tend to neglect our weaknesses. Academics provides a means of testing myself—against systems, against students, against my shortcomings—that I would not experience on my own. It's obviously more work, but it forces me to be disciplined.

So I'm here, away from my girls, away from my church, away from my friends, but it's important that I do this. Tonight I spend three hours in one of America's coolest cities typing a paper on my laptop. Sexy, eh?

But it'll be worth it.

Marathon Post-Mortem 2011

I say this every year and I mean it: the Flying Pig marathon is a great day for Cincinnati. Even at it's worst, it's an amazingly well-organized race. I could tell that, because of the inclement weather, there were far fewer people cheering this year. Still, the people out there were passionate and always help you to get this thing done. And I love the fact that, when you reach the finish line, students from Cincinnati Christian University are volunteering to help out runners. Familiar faces are always a blessing.

So here's the breakdown.

My performance: I finished two seconds slower than my first marathon— 3:58:32. But I'm just as proud of that finish because of the conditions. The early rain made the course a bear; not only were my socks/shoes waterlogged, I was dodging puddles throughout the race. And with the temperature in the mid/upper sixties, combined with all that rain, left the humidity hanging in the air. For the second straight year, I had to change socks in Mariemont. This slows momentum and hurt my time, but it was a necessity for me.

So while my pace in the first part of the race was very strong, those conditions slowed me considerably in the second part of the race. It was the hardest finish yet. During the last four miles, I was continually talking myself out of stopping to walk it out. I honestly believe that, with better conditions, I would've set a personal best. But you play the hand that's dealt to you, and I did all I could. It was a good time.

My take-aways: First, I feel like we finally nailed down the perfect observation plan for Kelly and Kaelyn. They were able to see me at five different locations throughout the city. Knowing that they're waiting for me always pushes me a little more. I know it takes a lot of work for Kelly to make it happen, but I'm so grateful that they accommodate my hobby.

Second, this will likely be remembered as the marathon where I got TV facetime. WLWT televises the event and, every year, they have cameras stationed at the overlook in Eden Park. When I saw them this year, I made a move towards the path of the camera but I thought there weren't broadcasting. When meteorologist Valeri Abate turned around, I knew they were on the air so I acted a fool. Evidence of it can be viewed here. Even during a marathon, I'm still a goof at heart.

My appreciation: Running in terrible weather is no fun, but I can't imagine just watching people do it for hours. And it's beyond me that people will spend hours volunteering to help those people run in terrible weather. I'm so grateful for people like my family who enable runners to reach their goals. I've always enjoyed the marathon because it's me verses myself, or me verses the course. But I always neglect to recognize all the other people who make it happen. It's an amazing collective effort.

So now what? When you're still in pain two days after, it's tough to contemplate doing this again. But I'm a glutton for punishment. I'm pretty sure I'll be back at it in 2012.

Who else is with me?

The Night Before 26.2

So it looks like we'll get soaked tomorrow. That's yet another interesting thing about running the marathon: you train for months in all kids of weather just wishing for a beautiful race day. And yet for my third consecutive marathon, and for the third consecutive year, I'll be getting wet. But that's why this thing is almost as mental as it is physical. But on both accounts, I'm feeling great. You can't let a little weather prevent you from a goal like this.

The weather does, however, throw a wrench into predicting my performance. But I have to make a guess so I can continue to gauge how I feel. So after finishing 3:58 in my first, and 4:32 in an injured attempt last year, here's my call:

• Top Goal: 3:52
• Realistic Goal: 4:00
• "As long as I come in by this time I'll be satisfied" goal: 4:15

Regardless of what happens, to all my running and volunteering friends, I look forward to seeing you out there.

Trust the Taper

It's marathon week here at the House of Carr. Huzzah. The prevailing thoughts here are concerning the weather. Both of my previous treks were subject to rain. This slogs everything down and makes it difficult to get the time I'm hoping for. I'm hopeful that recent Noadic flood-like conditions will have used up our region's allotment of rain. The race will procede regardless, so I just move on.

But six days before the race, it's all about anticipation. Hitting this final week is difficult because you're fully engrossed in tapering. This is the period of time when you scale back your running considerably to give your body time to heal. Where you were once getting in 25-30 miles a week, you're now down between 10-20. Believe it or not, resting is difficult because you start to doubt your ability to do well. The natural inclination is to pick up some miles, but you have to resist. Personally, even though this is my third go-round, I'm starting to feel out of shape. Even though I knew this is how I would feel, I'm struggling.

But tapering is part of nearly every marathon training plan in existence. It's proven to work. So you gotta trust the taper.

Honestly, tapering is probably the fascinating thing about marathon training. The months leading to the race are filled with constant training and then it suddenly stops. But you gotta trust the taper.

So here's to spending a week battling my inner demons before battling the course.

Season's End

With sundown this evening, the day before Resurrection Sunday, the Lenten season concludes. It's been a fascinating few weeks.

From a "surrender" perspective, I did not consume any Diet Coke throughout the Lent. It wasn't nearly as hard as I imagined it would be, finally proving to myself that I could go on without it if I had to. Developing new patterns was the most difficult thing for me. My daily routine (a stop at the Mt Adams UDF for a 44 ounce Diet Coke) was completely altered; additionally, during this time, two of the regular employees with whom I developed relationships no longer work there. I'll have to build some new relationships there.

On an editorial note, I'm not sure I feel any healthier. I've been drinking tons of tea, both caffeinated and caffeine-free, so I'll welcome more flavor in my beverages. I should admit that I'll cautiously ease back into my Diet Coke habit since I'm one week out from the marathon and I don't want my system to go haywire.

From a spiritual perspective, I thoroughly enjoyed this season. More so than any other time I can remember, I fasted and prayed with intentionality and I desperately needed it. During the past forty plus days I have had numerous friends and family members encounter illness and tragedy. While I always pray, I felt my prayers were more focused during this time. I thought more about kingdom issues during this time. I'm in the midst of an incredibly busy and stressful time in life, but practicing Lent seems to have perfectly offset the chaos of my life.

And as for our congregation, I think Lent was a blessing. Many people at Echo took up this challenge and I believe all benefitted. I've seen some amazing growth in our church recently. Again, I'm not sure if we can attribute it all to Lent, but I truly saw the Spirit work through us during the past few weeks.

Tomorrow is a day of celebration so we fast no more. The tomb is empty. Jesus is risen.

Praise the Lord.

Thievery and Duct Tape

I learned the lesson a few years ago not to leave anything valuable in my car. At that time, they stole a bunch of crappy tech equipment we used in starting our church. Since my car is parked out on the street, a major thoroughfare for people in the neighborhood, I know seedy people walking by check to see if they can swipe something. Such is city life. Almost a year ago, the automatic door lock on my driver's side broke. So even though you could open the door, the alarm was still activated. Someone tried to break in last year, but was frightened away by the honking horn. I knew at that time I needed to fix it, even ordering the broken part but . . . well, you know how priorities can change. This past Monday morning at 2am the car alarm went off again; yet another person attempted to break into my vehicle. I walked out to survey the scene and my door was partially open. So with that as motivation, I decided to take time the next morning and stop ignoring the issue.

It's crazy that I never took the time to fix the door. The reason I let something like that fester for over a year is because I knew it would be a pain; taking the door apart is a piece of cake but putting it back together is ridiculous. When I finally got it taken apart I realized that the part I thought I needed to replace wasn't actually broken. A nut fastening the automatic door mechanism to the door itself was gone, and I wasn't going to able to replace it.

I needed a hack.

It was time for the duct tape.

I was able to secure the mechanism to the inner wall of the door with duct tape. I thought I was good to go and was putting the door back together when I realized that I inadvertently taped it to the automatic window. I had to make two different attempts but I was successful. In the ten years of owning my Explorer, it was my first duct tape repair.

Is there a lesson here? I'll try.

First, don't put off those pesky little tasks. They're never as bad as you think.

And second, there's nothing that duct tape can't fix.

Another One Bites The Dust

If you don't track Cincinnati news, you might have overlooked the story that Kroger is closing yet another store, this time in Westwood. This isn't surprising in the least, as I noted this trend in a post about a year ago. Since then, I've discussed the issue of urban health in many different venues, but allow me to add a few fresh comments in light of this development. Don't believe the data. With this closing, Kroger increased the data apologetics in order to justify the closing; they brought up not only lost revenue but also stat from customer loyalty cards. Without an objective analysis, I just can't buy it. Anytime this corporation claims to be losing "millions," it's according to its own mysterious rubric. And Kroger wouldn't tolerate any of its stores losing that money at that pace. This is merely a masking agent to deflect public criticism. As I noted last year, suburban locations is where this company wants to be. Urban Krogers will soon go the way of the albatross. Remember that this is a health care issue. I was talking to my friend Jade Kendell, who lives in lower Price Hill, about this topic at his house a few months ago. One block away from his home is a convenience store which have the only viable groceries within walking distance. Unfortunately, the store only sells junk food and cheap booze. All the kids in the neighborhood by food their because 1) it's available and 2) it's cheap. Understand that all of us eventually pay for this as the obesity and diabetes rates skyrocket in these communities and we subsidize their health care through taxes and increased medical expenses. A recent NY Times article featured this issue within the city of Philadelphia. Read it here.

It's not about race. It's about socio-economics. But read the comments about the Enquirer article and you'll soon realize that it is about race with the general public. This is yet another reason I'm obsessed with Cincinnati history; it explains how these neighborhoods became neglected. When you study the outright class segregation the our city father's created, you begin to realize that these situations were manufactured.

We'll all feel the pinch soon. Kroger's business plan is based on consumers who have access to automobile transportation, hence the added impact of this closing stores in urban, bus-going communities. As gasoline prices this summer seem destined to escalate towards $4 a gallon, those precious driving customers will likely begin to reevaluate their shopping habits.

You might not care, but you should.

Are You Missing It?

"Church is boring." You've heard it. I've heard it. Heck, we might have even uttered it ourselves.

That simple phrase has served as motivation for the 21st century American church. As a result, numerous churches have buildings with high tech sound, lighting, and video. The concept spurs people to "church shop," in hopes of finding the next best thing. And many a new, hip church has advertised their congregation as, "not your grandmother's church."

But I have news:

That ain't church.

And if this is what you think church is, then you're missing it.

You're really missing it.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've been privileged to witness the church firsthand. And it isn't boring.

It's inspiring.

I've witnessed a church pull their money together to help a parishioner with medical bills. I've observed a church spring into action when a family had multiple deaths within the course of weeks. I've watched a church gather to plead to the Lord for a woman plagued with cancer. I've seen a church's elders gather around a stroke victim and pour out prayer.

The church is a blessing from God. For 2,000 years, it's united complete strangers and forged families. In our moments of greatest grief, the church envelopes us with the love of God. From birth to death, the Lord has provided the church to sustain us. It's really an unheralded miracle.

And we complain when the keyboardist flubs a note . . . or when the preacher makes me feel guilty . . . or when the coffee is cold.

To my Christian friends, both clergy and laity: if you're enamored by the surface presentation, or the sermon bumper, or the worship band, then your understanding of church is misguided.

It's more than that.

So. Much. More.

And I don't want you to miss it.

Love Wins and Me (Part Two)

For part one of this series, click here. It's not been a month since Rob Bell's new book started a firestorm and publishing a review of it now seems almost dated. The interwebs are scattered with thoughtful reviews (I'm too lazy to hyperlink), so this one might not even merit a second glance. But having finally read Love Wins, I feel that I have a better understanding of what he is trying to accomplish with it. That said, I'm still not sure I still understand exactly what he is trying to say.

And I think that is precisely his point.

WHY DID HE WRITE? First, allow me to speculate concerning Bell's motivation.

I don't believe that Rob wrote this text in order to start a controversy. He's no dummy; he obviously knew that his thoughts would be the subject of debate. But I suggest that rather than seeking out the heretic label, Bell honestly believed he was doing something noble. He believes that Christianity has been hijacked by believers who do not practice love of Christ. These people may have beliefs, but they cling to these thoughts more religiously than they do the practices that ought to spring out as a result of it. Basically, they believe in Jesus, but they don't look any different as a result.

And he has a point, doesn't he? How many times have you read/seen a news report citing the words of some Christian leader and become irate? There are many people who cling to a Christianity that emphasizes the negative approach of salvation, a.k.a. acquiring fire insurance. "Believe in Jesus or you'll go to hell," some Christians proclaim. Even those of us who believe this to be true are squeamish of such a gospel presentation. It doesn't project the fullness of what God accomplished through the cross and we're embarrassed. We too want a more complete view of what it means to follow Jesus.

This is the world in which Bell dwells—with people from diverse, non-Christian backgrounds. Hence, we begin to understand his use of the driving anecdote behind Love Wins. In the opening chapter, Bell describes an art show at his church where one of the paintings was of Mahatma Gandhi. Someone decided to leave a note concerning the painting which alluded to the fact that Gandhi, as a Hindu, was in hell. Bell was repulsed by this commentary, asking, "Really? Gandhi's in hell? He is? We have confirmation of this? Somebody knows this? Without a doubt?" Bell's contempt is flamed by the thought that a Christian would simply dismiss a person's entire life in in the name of Jesus. If that's how we treat those who are dead, how does it speak to the living who still have a chance to embrace Christ? Bell is driven by compassion and empathy as he pens this book.

HOW DID HE WRITE? Bell uses various techniques in order to establish his position (whatever position that is). The most dominant one is the personal story. Littered throughout Love Wins are narratives that force introspection. This is a powerful approach because nearly all Christians who read this book will be able to relate to the tales Bell tells. For example, he speaks of a trip he took to Rwanda (a "hell on earth") in order to affirm his belief in a literal hell. This story empowers the readers to formulate a belief system based on how they feel. This experiential track is a popular one because this is how many people form their theology—"if it feels right, it must be true."

Bell goes to the Bible to deconstruct popular Christian theology concerning hell. He cites selected Scriptures in order to prove that the way mainstream Christianity views hell isn't biblical. Honestly, this approach bothered me the most because Bell was incredibly lax in the presentation of his systematic theology. He selects Scriptures at random, does a Greek word study of one word (and a poor word study at that), and rarely engages the many texts that present a counter position. Still, by merely dabbling in the Bible, he's able to convey a feeling that the Scriptures aren't very clear about hell.

Finally, Bell's go-to methodology in writing this book is to merely ask questions. As the father of a five-year-old, I can appreciate human inquisitiveness. I too am curious about the universe that God created, and continually ask questions of myself and others as I work out meaning. But Bell's questions are constant and are presented to create division concerning long-held Christian beliefs. While it is true that many questions have no definitive answers, the Scriptures do provide guidance for many an inquiry. For the lion's share of questions that Bell poses, he provides very few answers.

WHAT DID HE GET RIGHT? There are some powerful statements in this book, many things that, if said by another person in another context, would elicit "Amen's" from a congregation. Bell rightly observes that many Christians are so focused on our eternal destination that we're ignoring the power of the gospel to make life better in the here and now. He appeals for an attitude of graciousness from those who tell the good news. And Bell really understands people. Even in the written word, you can sense that magnetic pull of his personality.

WHAT DID HE CITE (POORLY)? Among the things that irked me about this book, Bell's lack of understanding the historical position of the church concerning hell is utterly perplexing; perhaps I judge him too harshly here, as many believers neglect to acknowledge the role of church history in our faith. Bell makes multiple citations to history, including a poor interpretation of Martin Luther. To me, the church's position on hell throughout the centuries is impossible to ignore when wrestling with this issue. In order to get a better grip on this issue, I'd invite you to read what's been written over the past 2,000 years by clicking here.

Also (and apologies if this seems minor, but I don't believe it is), Bell's selectivity is revealed even in his recommended resources. In Love Wins, he spends a good portion of the seventh chapter retelling the parable of the Prodigal Son from Luke 15; he uses it as yet another prooftext to show that God will ultimately redeem all people. In his list of resources at the conclusion of the book, he proclaims that the book The Prodigal God by Presbyterian minister Tim Keller was inspirational in his understanding of the parable. But in Keller's book, The Reason for God, he devotes an entire chapter on how to help intellectuals grasp the concept of a literal hell. By citing Keller's The Prodigal God, it seems as if Bell is trying to imply a relationship between the two men's thoughts, but they couldn't be farther apart. To read Keller's thoughts on hell, click here.

WHAT DID HE REALLY WRITE? So what IS Bell trying to say? It depends . . . on how you read it. Even in his interviews promoting the book, Bell is ambiguous concerning exactly what he believes about hell.

I don't believe that Bell is a true universalist, or one who believes that all people will go to heaven. He allows a framework for the punishment of evil that doesn't jibe with universalism. He most likely holds a position of inclusivism, that the grace of Christ saves people who have some kind of pseudo-faith.

What Bell espouses in Love Wins (and he freely admits this) is nothing new. But while he would claim that it falls within the parameters of mainstream orthodox Christianity, it is actually a mere recycling of 19th century liberal European theology. This belief system incited a war in the American church during the early 20th century (a conflict that eventually led to the establishment of my alma mater, Cincinnati Christian University). Bell attempts to sell inclusivism as orthodox Christianity, but it is not. And it never has been.

Still, I have no idea exactly what he believes. So why didn't he clearly define his position? Because there's too much a stake.

Bell's primary audience/readership is young, hip, mainstream evangelical Christians. My opinion is that, while Bell is definitely an inclusivist, he fully recognizes that staking such a position would alienate him from a more conservative Christians. So he chose to publish a book that merely alludes to his beliefs in hopes that he could have his cake and eat it too. But you can't have it both ways. I'm not sure he anticipated this kind of controversy, but he held to ambiguity in those public interviews in hopes of weathering the storm. For years, Bell was able straddle the line between orthodoxy and liberalism successfully but Love Wins, even if it is a literary success, will signal a loss to the Rob Bell brand.

With this book, and the position that Rob Bell (kinda) takes here, his influence will begin to diminish. He will never again publish with one of the big Christian publishing houses. His invitations to speak at conferences will begin to die down. People will most likely throw away their vast library of Nooma videos in protest. The rising star of Rob Bell will begin to fall. I'm not convinced that Love Wins will have any significant historical influence beyond today.

WRAPPING UP Beyond the theological implications, is there a lesson here? I think so.

This current culture is one that values pluralism. We want to be free to believe whatever we choose, and change those beliefs from day to day. So we embrace fuzziness in all it's glory, with a multiplicity of escape routes to maintain our widespread appeal. But we neglect to realize that in taking no position at all, we make a statement with our silence. No matter how you frame it, Jesus' message is divisive. We might not like it, but it is not ours to choose. The broader community of believers, especially in this age of digital connectivity, will always police those who try to induct fringe beliefs into the mainstream.

If Rob Bell can't get away with it, can anyone?

Love Wins And Me (Part One)

Regardless of how many tasks I'm juggling, I will always take time out of my schedule to address contemporary Christian issues that demand attention. In the past two weeks a firestorm has erupted concerning a popular Christian preacher and writer named Rob Bell. He has just released a new book entitled, "Love Wins," that minimizes the role of hell in Christian theology. Much has been written on the interwebs about the hubbub, so my two cents might seem irrelevant. While I don't intend to pave new ground in the conversation, I believe I have a unique perspective on Bell himself as I've been tracking his career for more than a decade now. This is a lengthy post, but I figure if you're still reading, then you're interested.

HE'S PRETTY GOOD.

One of my wife's childhood friends settled in Grand Rapids, Michigan after attending college there. In one of her visits to Cincinnati after our wedding, she told us about the church she was attending.  It was a newer congregation which, at that time, was meeting in something that resembled an airplane hanger. "Steve, you'd really like our minister. He's pretty good," her friend told me. I didn't think much of it until that winter when I heard her minister speak at a conference I attended.

Yes, Rob Bell was pretty good. He's a phenomenal orator. He has incredible command of his diction (especially when rehearsed) and usually has sufficient content to keep his teaching compelling. There are few Christian speakers like him today, who can leave the audience hanging on his every word.

Later that year, we took a trip to visit Kelly's friend in Grand Rapids and attended Mars Hill Bible Church for the first time. They had recently purchased an old mall and were converting it for their ministry purposes. Back then, they had a sermon cassette tape booth (cutting edge, eh?) and I bought the entire first year of his preaching; he taught through the Old Testament book of Leviticus. This is precisely why I appreciated Bell at the time: he was a younger evangelical minister fully embracing biblical preaching. A decade ago, this was novel.

HE'S A THINKER

In January 2003, Bell (who was growing in popularity but still wasn't mainstream) and his church hosted a preaching study conference centering around the Ten Commandments. I convinced my friend Aaron Burgess that it would be worth the drive to Grand Rapids to hear this, so we braved a Michigan winter for some knowledge. There were only about fifty people at this gathering—many Michigander clergy folk and a few people like us sprinkled in—consisting of three days of Rob Bell talking with us. He went through his thought process on preaching, developing theology, and anything else that we cared to ask him. Some reflections from this experience are worth noting to understand the current controversy:

1. It was here where I found out where Rob harvested much of his best material. Ray Vanderlaan is an author and Bible teacher who specializes in the Holy Land and Jewish rabbinic culture. Himself a compelling speaker, Vanderlaan said many things that I had heard in Rob's sermon tapes. Vanderlaan is a sharp man, but not really a biblical scholar, so some of his assertions have been refuted by those with more letters after their names.

2. Rob also revealed his library. At the time, he had many books that were Jewish in nature. One, for example, was Abraham Heschel's God in Search of Man. I made an effort to read many of these texts. The majority of them stood in opposition to orthodox Christianity. Obviously, there's nothing with that; when teaching in the Old Testament, I make sure to utilize Jewish scholarship fully understanding the different perspectives. But some of the concepts he articulated in this forum, derived from these and similar texts, were likely the path of development towards his current theological positions. I even have notes on Redemptive Theology (also known as trajectory theology), which helps solidify his position.

3. While in Grand Rapids, I believe I determined the rise of Mars Hill. Rob was an associate minister on staff of a megachurch in the city. Obviously, his oration skills were phenomenal, so when he stepped out to start a new church it was an event. I've read before in articles, where Rob decried church marketing, even having the church sign removed from the front of their building (it was true back in 2003). I always found this interesting because they were able to start their church with almost 1,000 people. I'm not discounting the Lord moving to grow that congregation, but they didn't really need a church sign because Mars Hills was the coolest church in town.

4. The concept that "Love Wins" was created in the first year of their church. In response to a powerful gospel sermon (not sure if it mentioned hell or not), he concluded by throwing open boxes of bumper stickers with the two word sentence printed on them. As we drove around town, we could see many of them affixed to car bumpers. I am uncertain as to whether or not he had fully conceptualized what he meant by that phrase when he promoted it to his church a decade ago.

5. This was soon after the Nooma series had been created. It was interesting to see it on the bottom floor in light of what it became. We met the guy who came up with the concept, who apparently knew exactly how to match Rob's talent with this medium.

6. Kind of a sidebar here, but Aaron was hilarious at this conference. In one of the early sessions, Rob said something about philosophy (Aaron's wheelhouse) and proceeded to correct him publicly on a couple of concepts. At the time it was awkward, but now it seems extremely funny to me. Later that week, Aaron asked one of the Mars Hill staff members about sheep stealing and the dude blew up at him. Besides wearing cool glasses, Aaron wasn't buying into the hype.

7. Since it was a small gathering, I did have a chance to talk with Rob for about five minutes. Although he seemed really gracious, he was somewhat socially awkward. I remember dropping a couple of jokes in front of him and he just stared at me. And since he's really tall (and I'm not), and since he had really cool glasses (and I did not) I do not have warm fuzzies about our interaction. I don't think he's rude, he's a thinker. I've met many a pastor who are outgoing and personable on stage yet more reserved during one-on-one interactions. I could be way off on this, however, but that's how I pegged him.

I must admit that it was a memorable experience. It took me a few months to digest all that I took in there. And it was, after this fact, that my intruigue with Bell began to wane. See, when he started the church, he was preaching through books of the Bible (Leviticus and Ephesians). After the Ten Commandments, he started to depart from this and engaged in more topical preaching. Honestly, I'm just not convinced that his content was as good as it once was, leaning towards opinion and conjecture. I honestly never watched a whole Nooma after the second one. And though I own three of his books, I only read one all the way through. And, since those early days, more and more of his theology has emerged, leading me to question where he really stands.

HE'S PROPHETIC.

One more anecdote: a year or so later, my wife's friend got married and we made yet another trip to Grand Rapids. Many of the attendees at the wedding attended Rob's church, so we had some good conversations with them at the reception. But I remember one conversation very clearly: it was with a twenty-something woman who was clearly excited about Mars Hill. As I asked her some questions about the church, she responded in utter admiration of Rob. I wish I could remember the exact phrase the woman uttered, but it was something to the effect that he was prophetic. Obviously, there's nothing wrong with respecting you pastor, but these opinions transcended mere appreciation. Unfortunately, some of the woman's terminology seemed borderline cult-like. She believed that Bell was one of the holiest, most profound people in the world. While this isn't an indictment on Bell (I'm certain he didn't demand this adoration), I wonder if he truly realized such a culture existed where someone could make those statements.

HE'S PROTECTED.

I always assumed the Bell would parlay his talent into a larger situation; Grand Rapids, while nice, is a small midwestern town lacking in influence. But Mars Hill provided Rob the perfect safe haven to develop his thoughts without fear of theological repercussion. While there was a leadership team over the church (at least this was the case in 2003), Bell was a part of this governing group. I am pretty sure that he won't have to fear the wrath of the church leadership in espousing these controversial thoughts in book form because the leadership team shares them. So why has he stayed in Grand Rapids? It offers him a shield of protection it would be difficult to find elsewhere. He's continuing to claim association with orthodox Christianity while moving further away. But as long as he has that church, he'll have stability.

So yeah, there's a little bit of a background for ya. I've mentioned nothing of the book here, but I think for many people it will reveal more about what's behind it.

I'm working my way through the book now.  I'll have a critique about its content out soon.

Click here for part two.

And I Just Can't Hide It

I am very excited about Sunday at Echo Church. "Very," I say.

After more than five years of Echo ministering in our community, we will be officially ordaining spiritual leaders for our church. As a congregation of the Independent Christian Church tradition, we're dedicated to autonomous church rule under the authority of elders (that's technical talk, meaning that we have no denominational structure to which we respond; our church governs our own church). Even though we started Echo without elders, we made sure to keep multiple levels of accountability in place to ensure that the church functioned well. On a personal level, I have a group of ministers with whom I meet monthly that keep me in check. And as a church, we've maintained a leadership team who oversee the important aspects of congregational life.

A couple of years ago, we restructured our leadership team to prepare to install an eldership. We looked carefully at the New Testaments texts concerning elders (specifically 1 Timothy and Titus 1) and were able to identify men who could fulfill this role at Echo. Over the past 18 months we studied theology and talked philosophy of ministry to make sure we were on the same page. And after all this time in meeting and studying, we will finally set apart these men on Sunday as our new elders.

There are numerous reasons why I'm thrilled about this. First, I'm excited that our church is continuing to grow up. Even though we're still a relatively young congregation, we've made it five years now. Even though a numerical growth hasn't been dynamic, I see how our people are growing/serving/connecting and I know we're moving forward. And with a more solid leadership structure, it'll display that we're not a fly by night operation.

Second, I'm excited for these guys. I've known Aaron and Larry for awhile, and David and Josh more recently. But during the past couple of years I've gotten to know all of them closely. We all have different personalities that all mesh together to bring a distinctive flavor. I wholeheartedly believe that the Lord brought them to Echo so that we will be a better church. It's crazy to think that over the next decade(s), we'll have the opportunity to lead this Echo for the glory of God. It's a re-beginning for our continued journey.

Third, I'm excited for the people in our church. Each of these men are amazing people with diverse giftedness. As charming as I am, I can't be all things to all people. So if someone in the church is struggling, and they don't feel like engaging me, there are other people with whom they can relate. As a church, we're spending the 24 hours before the ordination in prayer and fasting for what God is going to do through us in our city. It's the passion of the people at Echo that continues to make it a beacon in a dark world.

Finally, I'm excited for me. Yes, I'm self-centered, but this makes my life even better. As much as I love Echo, I'm always fearful that, as the main voice, people associate the church with my personality. Even though I'm always upfront, there are many valuable people that drive our church. And with the ordination of these leaders, it will become even more evident that this is a team effort. I'm so blessed to be a part of this church. And I'm even more blessed to be surrounded by people who love it as much as I do.

Hence, I am so very excited about Sunday.

If you're available, I'd love to invite you to our Ordination Service. It's this Sunday night (March 13th) at 6pm at the Walnut Hills Christian Church. There'll be a reception after the worship gathering.

Join us as we continue to grow up.

Ash Wednesday (sans ash)

Here's a note I sent out to our church about tomorrow. So tomorrow it begins. Lent is here. I hope you're excited as I am.

Tomorrow is the day known in Christian tradition as Ash Wednesday. Perhaps you're familiar with this but, if not, allow me to explain. The palm branches from the previous year's Palm Sunday were supposed to have been burned and the ashes kept. Then, on this day, the church would gather together at an early morning worship service. The minister would take his fingers, dip them in the palm ashes, and affix an ashen cross on the believer's forehead (many say the tradition is derived from the Genesis 3:19 text, "For from dust you are and to dust you will return”). Christians wear those ashes on their foreheads until they wear off.

Obviously, Echo Church isn't gathering tomorrow morning for a service; as a church that meets at night, I'm not sure what we'd do that early anyway. So while it might be disappointing that you won't get an ash cross on your forehead, I'll admit I'm a little relieved: I have a business meeting tomorrow night where it would be difficult for me to explain my markings. So if you see another Christian wearing ashes tomorrow, you might feel inferior. But perhaps there are other ways that you too can keep the cross on your mind throughout your day.

As for me, I plan on marking my palm with a miniature cross. This might sound like a weak substitution but this way, as I'm using my hands, I'll remember that this is the day we begin to look forward to the resurrection. Maybe you have a better idea or suggestion of how to replace the forehead ashes. I'd be interested in hearing it. Again, our point in this isn't to be mired in ritualism but to refocus on our faith. So do what you need to do to remember.

Regardless of how you do it, tomorrow we focus on the cross, and what Christ has done for us. Pray that God will transform you through this experience. I'll be praying for you.

Blessings, Steve

Lent: Not Just For Breakfast Anymore

Last week, Kelly and I saw the musical Fiddler on the Roof downtown at the Aronoff Center (big thanks to Julie Keyse for watching our daughter so we could attend). The story of Tevya, an impoverished Jewish family man in a small Russian town, centers on his transitioning faith. The entire show is encapsulated by the driving song of the musical: “Tradition.” Will Tevya continue to live within the framework of tradition or will he cede that some things change and that life can go on? Christians, at least those of us within the "evangelical" tribe, are the antithesis of Tevya. While we too are uncertain as how to engage both modernity and the faith of our past, we choose to eighty-six the tradition without a second thought. We are especially leery of those practices connected with Roman Catholicism, dismissing the lion's share of them as having been tainted by its hierarchy. This is precisely why many of us refer to ourselves as "New Testament Christians," claiming that this is the only tradition that has any value.

Within the spectrum of “tradition,” two extremes emerge: either we WORSHIP tradition as if it's biblical, or we WIPE IT OUT altogether like it's paganism. As with most positions, extremism is rarely healthy, but it tends to unify adherents so we acquiesce. As a result, many of us are cautious of moving away from the pole, fearful of being identified as "one of them." But at Echo Church, where we continually unite believers from various backgrounds under the banner of biblical authority, we're able to indulge in certain aspects of tradition while clarifying its place within our faith.

And that's precisely why, this year, we're observing Lent.

Lent isn't Catholic, it's Christian, dating back to the second century. The word "lent" is derived from an old English word meaning "springtime,"* and the Latin adverb "lente" means "slowly," providing us the opportunity to downshift our lives in anticipation of Resurrection Sunday. The length of Lent, approximately forty days, correlates with Jesus' desert temptation in Matthew 4. We observe the season with a renewed emphasis on prayer, giving, and (the most popular discipline) fasting. Most people use Lent as the opportunity to fast from something particular that they love.

We just need to remember why we're giving it up. We're not fasting to flex our powers of self-control; if you're trying to prove you can deprive yourself, this isn't the time. We don't fast because we're trying to merit God's approval; nothing we can "do" will get us saved—Jesus did that on the cross. We're preparing our hearts for Easter. Really, Lent is a lesson you get to re-learn. Through the experience you recognize that you love the Lord more than any one thing. Yes, you already know this, but it's a helpful reminder.

"So what are you giving up?"

Ah, the popular Lenten question. So here's my answer: Diet Coke.

In the summer of 1995, I switched over to Diet Coke from regular soda. I've always loved drinking pop, but couldn't keep the weight down will absorbing mass quantities of it into my system. So almost sixteen years ago I switched over and it's been a part of my life ever since. I’ve likely not gone two days without drinking it since then. Even when we were in Israel, I was able to locate Coke Light, the Asian/European equivalent. I've become known for my Diet Coke addiction, so it's the perfect thing to temporarily abandon.

Of course, in the scheme of things, this isn't a huge deal. All over the world people suffer and I'm going without a beverage? While it's not impressive, it will force me to alter aspects of my life. When I get a morning longing for a Diet Coke, I’ll remember why I don't drink one. And hopefully those moments of unfulfilled desire, I can focus on my faith.

So what about you? Maybe it's a food or a beverage. Maybe it's some kind of media (Facebook, the internet, Twitter, or television). Maybe it's a hobby like reading or sudoku or the crossword puzzle. Just ask yourself: what do you love? And is your dedication to it comparable to your love of the Lord.

As our church observes Lent, I'm going to write some thoughts on it to send out to people. I'll post some of them here.

The journey towards the Empty Tomb begins Wednesday. What can you give up?

__________________

*Yes, Lent is likely another pagan ritual that was Christianized and, therefore, isn't necessarily biblical. But if you've ever touched an Easter Egg or exchanged Christmas gifts, don't take the religious high ground and call this unbiblical.

Old Man River

I don't mean this to sound cruel, but I love it when the river surges towards flood stage. Our return to urbanity moved me to redevelop my love for the Ohio River. I'll sometimes drive to work "the long way" just so I can catch a glimpse of the waters. When I go running, I like to head down the Gilbert Avenue hill towards the river valley (even though I dread the return trip up the incline) so I can be near the waters.

Growing up in Cincinnati means recognizing the importance of the river to this town. It was the river that made Cincinnati one of the fastest growing cities in America in the earlier part of the 19th century (the fifth largest U.S. city by 1850). Of course, it was also the river that led to the city's stagnation; city fathers believed railroads would undermine the river's commerce and transportation and didn't build a major train hub (Union Terminal in the 1930's) until long after Chicago took the lead on it. So while the slowly flowing brown water might be the perfect metaphor of what's gone wrong in Cincinnati, I can't help but view it as a thing of beauty.

Both my parents grew up along the river (albeit in two different towns) so perhaps it's in my blood. The story my mother told me when I was a child about a high school classmate of hers who drowned while swimming across the river (it has a wicked undertow) is still lodged in my mind decades later. And I remember fondly a seventy-year old sign that my father somehow "acquired" that notes the official flood level of the catastrophic 1937 flood (cresting at 80 feet). So while the river has always been a part of me, I continue to harbor a healthy respect for its potential dangers. I was in college in 1997 when the river last teemed over the flood walls, submerging large portions of the shoreline. I've seen firsthand the results of its unleashed power.

And this is why I'm apologetic for my delight in the rising waters. I know that there are people and businesses who are negatively affected by flooding (of course, they choose to be there), but it is mesmerizing. Many locals don't recognize that the river as we view it today is not how it always was. Before the installation of dams, the river would dry up, making it impossible for boats to traverse (click here for a picture from the 1880's illustrating this). So the Ohio River is now more controlled than it ever has been, ensuring a consistent flow of water. Yet despite our technological advances, when we get too much snow or rain we can't prevent the river from flooding. It reminds us that even in our attempts to obtain control, we are still helpless to keep the waters at bay.

I was out for a long run yesterday and couldn't help but stare at the river. After meandering around the riverfront, I ended up a Sawyer Point. Park officials already had barricades up on some of the lower paths because of the rising waters. Naturally, I went around the barriers towards the water's edge. There's a concrete platform the juts out into the waters, usually hovering eight feet over the river; due to the rising waters, the platform was a mere twelve inches above the water level. I stood out on the structure and could see the river flowing rapidly around me. It was awe-inspiring. Here was this massive body of water and little old me watching it flow determinedly downstream.

Maybe that's why I love the river: it forces me to recognize my place in the world. I cannot contain it; I operate at it's mercy. I must respect it or it will be my demise.

The creative mind of the Lord continues to amaze me.

Church Struggle

Things have been going well at Echo. I feel like we're in a much better place than we've every been. This church is growing up, and it's going to last. That's about all I can ask for. Still, I'm continually anxious to see what we're becoming. But there's always a fire to put out. Currently, it's the status of our rental facility. While the relationship with our lessor hasn't necessarily deteriorated, they are becoming less logical. We're almost left to wonder if we'll suddenly be forced to find a new facility. Being the Boy Scout that I was/am, always anticipating possible scenarios, I'm pushing for preparedness in case it happens. I've kept a list of alternate meeting sites for awhile and, recently, I've been going through the list—exploring other possible meeting spaces within our neighborhood.

I visited one such space last Sunday morning. It is an aging church in midst of our inner-city community with a pretty large facility. It's indicative of many churches in today's cities: they were a good size church in the 1940's and 1950's but they were unable to adjust to the cultural changes that accompanied urban renewal. As a result, many of its congregants fled to the suburbs and the church began to decline. Left behind was a group of locals (unable to sprawl) and church devotees—themselves no longer in the community, but harboring an obligation to the urban church. These churches are struggling to stay in business. And when the fire is finally extinguished they close their doors and the building is razed or becomes an Urban Outfitters.

What's interesting as that the base experience does not necessarily differ from a thriving congregation. As I walked in the church this morning, I was greeted warmly. You could tell that the people love their church, while wanted things to go better. The worship wasn't professional quality, but it was sincere. I was pleasantly surprised when one of the ladies performed a song that she had written herself. And the message the pastor preached was as passionate as those in churches I had seen at much larger congregations.

But there were twenty people in the pews—average age 68. In a few years, they'll shut the doors. It's a very typical story in the city, highlighting the importance of churches like Echo to engage these communities. These communities will last but the churches will not. So we need to continually focus on adding new churches to the landscape.

But in my discussion with this church, I was pleasantly surprised. Even though they're struggling financially, they've recognized that their building is an incredible asset. They are currently renting it out to five different organizations throughout the week. Not only have they sought the additional revenue, but they're renting to groups that are positively impacting the community. They admitted, "we might not be here much longer, but we're trying to do what we can now to make our community a better place while we can."

I'm always thankful for people who see the big picture. Nothing's going to last forever, so you have to think beyond yourself. It's the mindset I'm trying to think of when working with our young congregation. I'm sure we can build something that will last forty years, but I'd prefer something that could last for forty generations. For this vision to become a reality, we need to make sure we're wise enough to adapt to the changing culture around us.

It's a struggle, but the stakes are too high to ignore.