Stray Thoughts

• I used to watch the Oscars. For some reason I thought I cared.... I don't anymore
• It's funny how people respond to a sermon that references both Foreigner and Boston songs ("I Want to Know What Love Is" and "More than a Feeling"). Even funnier: I didn't write those two references in the manuscript, and they came out ad lib.

• As a member reminded me yesterday, theology goes astray when it all hangs on one word. Sic et non. Tao, if you will. Tradition even?

• I've been having dreams in German lately. I haven't spoken it regularly since 1998. The German in my dreams is lousy.

• Good writing is clear writing. Write what you want it to mean. Humans naturally bob and weave. It goes back to the Garden. Be direct.

• I have to check the weather for the next non-windy day before Wednesday. It's hard to burn ashes in 30 mph sustained winds. Welcome to Oklahoma.

• My wife chuckled when I said in Bible study, "If you want to have a good Lent..." It does sound funny.

Almost Ready...

Whew! Finished with the sermons through January 4. Or at least the draft of them I'll practice, to put a better point on it. I have to see a few shut-ins and I can begin my Christmas "vacation." As it were. Still doing Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, the Sundays and New Year's Eve, and whatever emergencies come up, but the rest of the time will be at home.

I want to do some reading. I need to do some more writing, having taken the month of December off, except for a non-fiction submission that was accepted--whoo-hoo! I want to spend some time with the home computer, fixing some organizing issues, organizing photos, tweaking Ubuntu a little, playing my new game. I look forward to board games and card games with the girls, playing "Dragons or Kitties" with Jack, and hanging out with Margie. If the weather is nice, maybe some time in the garage making sawdust (I have a tool storage cabinet I'm working on), though right now it's only 18°--that doesn't look promising.

Maybe even a few theological blog posts. It's why most of you are reading this, after all. Sorry about that for now :)

Peace out.

Three to Go: An Excursus on Writing Sermons

I finished up three sermons yesterday. Granted--I used some heavy borrowing from myself. Hate having to do that, but as Christopher Orr suggested below (in the comments) it's all borrowing and copying one way or another.

When I was at the Seminary, the homiletics professors squirmed a lot on this point. Being academics--and ethical types, anyway--they were loathe to admit that sermons should borrow anything--at least unattributed. It's the ethical way to be. On the other hand, they admitted that the Gospel is not copyrighted and if the pastor is inventing new ways of looking at it, understanding it or interpreting it, he is wrong. The pastor's--the theologian's--job is not to invent new things, but to be faithful to the Gospel as it has been handed down to us.

How do I handle this? When I borrow, I quote or attribute. Last Sunday I mentioned Eugene Petersen's idea that no congregation wants a pastor who is a "yes-man." They may still kick him out, but on a fundamental level they want someone who will speak the truth to them, even if they don't like it. This is Petersen's idea. Not mine. I gave him credit. I've never read this idea anywhere else, at least phrased like that. To my knowledge this is one of his unique insights.

On the other hand, I've made reference to things Fr. Stephen Freeman wrote concerning the human heart without giving him an attribution, at least not directly. Why? Because he was passing on what the Fathers and Elders have said through the centuries. Additionally, those observations have become mine through prayer and meditation about them--albeit in a puny, half-confused way.

Look, plagiarism is what we're talking about, and it's not an easy thing to put your finger on. You can't copyright the Gospel, nor the Apostolic teaching. You can't copyright facts, either, making the biographer in a worse position than a preacher. And sermons are not presented or intended to be creative, original texts. Not mine. It's part of why I don't publish them here. I don't write for publication, I write to proclaim--once.

Preaching is kind of like writing music: you have a chord progression-- a chordal pattern, a key, a time signature, a rhythm. And it cannot be copyrighted. It's not copyright-able. Fact. But the melody you sing is a creative, original element. Likewise the words. The chords for "Twinkle Twinkle" are the same chords used for 33.3% of all pop songs written in 1956-1966. Three chords and the truth. Ok, the statistics I made up, but they sounded good. And most blues songs feature the same I-IV-V progression with a half-dozen variations and turn-arounds, but no one is stealing from anyone else unless they take the words and melody. Or their band name begins with "Led" and ends with "Zeppelin." (see here, Zep-heads)

Likewise in preparing a sermon you have the structure, the key signature, the rhythm given to you. Sometimes you even have the melody provided--or maybe just a refrain. The preacher's task is to make the words fit the melody and the feel of the song. It is possible to sing "Amazing Grace" to the tune and chords of "House of the Rising Sun," but it may not be a good idea to do it. It could be a bad sermon.

Of course, this is all a big digression from my main point--I copied from myself. All my members who read this will now be bracing themselves to see if they recognize what I say. I doubt it. I wrote new introductions, and some new concluding paragraphs, copied in a few body paragraphs, but will probably even phrase them differently when I beging practicing them out loud. By the time it is proclaimed it may not even be familiar to me.

It's more like Jazz improv, maybe.

Ok, on to the next three!

Book Review: Field of Blood

I don't read much CBA. Just a few titles here and there, for much of the same reason I don't listen to much CCM: I find a lot of it to be derivative, saccharine, preachy and boring.

Field of Bood is not that--by a long shot. Half a dozen times I shook my head, thinking, "A Christian house published this book?" Not that it's graphic, but there is more sensuality and violence than in all the CBA books I've read combined. That Wilson could pull this off, and that the publisher was brave enough to support him is amazing.

The First through Tenth Commandments for writers has long been "Show, don't tell." Next to this, the advice of Elmore Leonard stands out: "I try to leave out the parts that people skip." Wilson has mastered these two principles. No boring exposition, no masses of overblown description. But the novel falls on these points as well. It's almost as if he was writing in shorthand. There is little sense of place. There is little connection to the characters. A prime example: the horror that the main character's mother subjected her to is so fleetingly drawn that the reader has to constantly fill in the gaps.

I don't do well with this style. It's also why the films of Michael Mann don't normally appeal to me: lots of stylish showing but too little information on what is actually going on.

The premise was strong, his use of Jewish mysticism and Christian tradition was creative, and the pacing was pretty good. In the end, though, the novel didn't work for me for the critical reason that I didn't care about the characters. The protagonist was mean and snarky to everyone around her and showed little redeeming qualities until the very end, and by then it was too late for me.

What I Learned when I Wrote a Novel in One Month

One of my earliest memories is of dictating a story to my mother. This was before I could read or write. She remembers many of these stories.

I tried to write a fantasy novel in sixth grade. When the class was watching Ghandi I was writing a pathetic rip-off of Lord of the Rings. I knew it was bad at that time. But I still don't know why a bunch of sixth graders were watching Ghandi in class or what we were supposed to get out of it.

I wrote short stories in high school, shamefully passing for high school versions of Stephen King short stories.

Then I stopped writing stories. I wrote disjointed philosophy papers instead. Later I wrote slightly more jointed theology papers, then half-jointed sermons for a long time.

But the desire to write never quite died, and lately it's been burning something fierce. So I did woodworking for a while. When it was too cold and dark to make sawdust I read. Or played computer games. But the itch became somewhat severe. Two novels stalled around chapter three, and all I had to show for it was some serious gaming skills at Call of Duty and Knights of the Old Republic.

Then I discovered National Novel Writing Month. So I followed the rules and wrote a 50214 word novel. It needs serious help, but I learned a lot doing it.

First, it's possible. Probably not for everybody, but if for those who harbor a desire and a modicum of experience writing anything fictive, it is possible.

Second, it's work. My hands hurt every night (but I have bad typing style). It took a lot of energy all those nights when I didn't have much left from long days and rowdy kids. It wasn't always fun, but there were bursts and briefs of something akin to joy here and there.

Third, think of the pros, the big name authors, the best-sellers. Think of 90% of all the novels you've ever read. Those guys are serious craftsmen. They do not exist in the same world as you do. Even the trashiest romance novelist, the mass-market paper back fantasy author, the woman that did the adaption of a screenplay. George Lucas, even. Pros. Not in your league. Not in my league. Not yet, anyway. Now think of the most hackneyed, god-awful novel you've ever attempted to read. Still a pro. Still in another league, though he may be swinging in AA or even Short-Season A. But he can still out-pitch, out bat, and out run you.

Fourth, I have a seriously good wife. She drove me through this, making sure that once I sat down to write, laundry got folded, dishes washed, house straightened, and the kids told to "be quiet and go to sleep and this time I mean it." Every night. I wouldn't have done it without her encouragement. OK...I knew she was a good wife even before this, but her support was wonderful.

Fifth, first novels are good experience, not always good stories. In other words, while I appreciate your interest and encouragement, you most likely will not be seeing the words I wrote anytime soon. Believe you me, that is to spare your eyes as much as it is to spare my dwindling self-respect.

It was a great experience, but not for the faint-hearted. Like hiking the Grand Canyon. But unlike hiking the Grand Canyon, which I want to do again someday but not too soon, now that I've had two nights off of writing, I'm almost ready to start in again.

It Starts Tomorrow

The NaNoWriMo, that is. 50,000 words in thirty days. I'm beginning to feel that this was a horrible mistake. Beginning tomorrow, you'll see a widget on the right that will track my word count. I'm doing this to keep the pressure on me, you see.

Bad Writing--This Time not by Yours Truly

Deliciously bad metaphors, supposedly written by high school students, though they sound suspiciously like entries in the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E.Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

5 She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you're on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan's teeth.

16 John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are known to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

Article Online

In working on another project I discovered my article "Baby Pew Sitters" published in Touchstone is now available online. Take a look and read some of their other articles. Better yet, subscribe too! Despite publishing me, it is a fine journal--stimulating but accessible reading as well.

On Anonymity and Pseudonymity (II)

One newly-sprung blog has a page to explain their pseudonyms:

These are dangerous times for Lutherans who have not signed onto Kieschnick's Purpose-Driven Ablaze Movement. The cancellation of the Issues Etc. radio program is proof enough for us that Kieschnick intends to use corporate take over tactics and informational subterfuge to destroy any and all who would dare to question and challenge HIS vision for the LCMS. Therefore, in order to protect ourselves while we shine the light of truth on Kieschnick's agenda so that there can be real debate regarding its merits or lack thereof, we have no choice but to write from behind a mask.

Their blog is important. Obviously they have some inside information. Much of what they write is investigative in nature. But one thing really bothers me: this page. Mind you, I'm not bothered by the New 95 Theses. For years I've heard Confessionals in parishes, offices, and Seminary classrooms wonder if we need a new Formula of Concord. Some have advocated it. I think I agree. If Lutheranism has any good in it, it can only be helped by such Confessional development.

No, I'm bothered that the Theses are anonymous.

So I was talking with Marjorie about this last night, trying to express exactly why it bugged me so much that the author of the New 95 Theses hadn't put his name on it. I couldn't quite put my finger on why the pseudonyms on their posts revealing financial documents didn't bother me, but this call for debate, this anonymous document of a confessional nature did.

Then I read Fr. Gregory Hogg's comment published elsewhere:

...those who think an issue is fundamentally *theological*--a matter of the truth--have no hesitation to die, if necessary, for the confession of the truth. Those who think that an issue is fundamentally *corporate*--a matter of opinion--do hesitate.

My dad once gave me this advice: Don't put anything in writing that you will later regret. Don't put it in writing if you don't want it to last forever. It's great advice. I haven't always followed it, and when I haven't, I've suffered.

In these days when the 8th Commandment is used as a weapon against those who express displeasure, we most certainly need to be honest about our identities. Hiding behind a false name while attempting "to shine the light of truth" all too easily degenerates into cowardice and defamation. But if one is convinced that they write the truth, and that others need to know the truth, then he should saddle up and sign it.

The defense of the anonymous activists is "fear of reprisals." I can understand that, especially if their paychecks read "LCMS, Inc." But what of fear? Christ our Lord reminds us: "I tell you, my friends, do not fear those who kill the body, and after that have nothing more that they can do. But I will warn you whom to fear: fear him who, after he has killed, has authority to cast into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him! Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God." Likewise, "The LORD is on my side; I will not fear. What can man do to me?" (Psa 118:6) For those of us who are sole (or nearly sole) providers it is difficult. But when the truth is at stake and we believe the time is right, our Lord promises us His protection.

I write this not to condemn or judge him. I have personal opinions and beliefs that I do not share here or write anywhere else. I have opinions about national politics, local politics, about history and the nature of man that I do not publish. I have theological opinions. I have beliefs about truth that I do not share at this time. We all do. But when the time is right, when one is led to publish ideas, to spark debate, to act in the public arena, then fear must give way to courage.

My dear wife reminded me last night that courage and fear are not opposite qualities. As Ambrose Redmoon said, "Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear." Or as Mark Twain said, "Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear."

An Article

The Lutheran Witness published an article of mine called "God's File Cabinet." You can find it online here.

I'm a Guest Blogger

Susan Johnston at Urban Muse included me as a guest blogger today. It is something I originally posted here several months ago, though I revised it and added some more links. It's better now, I think (thanks Susan!). Here's the post at her blog.

If you're a visitor from there, welcome and enjoy!

If You Can't Get Enough Here...

Check out Touchstone: A Journal of Mere Christianity. The newest issue contains an article I wrote called, "Baby Pew Sitters." It's an excellent journal (despite publishing my work). My piece is not available online at this time, but do take a look at the articles that are and the archives too.

On Writing

I struggled with writing sermons my first few years in the ministry. I would preach the manuscript and leave feeling very unsatisfied. I would ask my wife what she thought, what the main point seemed to be and sometimes I was really crushed when she had to guess, or knew it because she knew me, but not from what I had preached. It was a depressing time. I knew what I wanted to say, what I wanted to communicate, but it wasn't happening. Forcing the words in my brain to get out on paper wasn't so easy. I finally realized the problem was I was trying to be subtle and nuanced. I was trying to create an effect instead of words.

I saw a similar tendency in a young preacher who shared his sermons with me (this is vague, and a terrible sentence, but I don't want to be more specific and have everyone know who I'm talking about). He was a very good writer, a sharp student, a thoughtful and caring man. But occasionally I'd review a sermon of his and ask, "What exactly do you want to say in this section?" He'd think for a moment, and then tell me quite clearly and coherently. His writing--and mine--improved the moment I told him, "Go right now and type what you just said to me. Just write what you want to say and don't worry about it being too blunt or simple." It's advice I am still trying to take to heart myself.

Many of us have had the amazing experience of watching someone's argument build up, layer upon layer, until, in the last paragraph or chapter, the author with a flourish reveals his conclusion, "Thus the sun must revolve around the earth!" We gasp at how skillful he was in leading us right to where he wanted us. It is a shocking experience, to be pulled along, hook-line-and-sinker by an amazing thinker who convinces you unwittingly and forces you to his own conclusion. Or at least the reasonableness of his conclusion. In fiction, mystery writers are particularly gifted at this, especially when the perp is not some deus ex machina but has been dropping bread crumbs throughout the story. Whether reading fiction or non-fiction, that experience can be electrifying, seeing the power of words, of arguments, of leading a reader in the direction you have planned, carrying him through until he's convinced in the end.

Attempting to emulate this without the skill and gift is a fatal mistake. I can't do this, at least not by sheer will. It takes an organized, subtle, logical mind to write in an organized, subtle, and logical way. It cannot be forced, and it cannot be created ex nihilo.

You cannot write for effect. Every writer wants to create certain effect in his/her readers, but we don't write effects--or affects either. We write words. In sentences. We write words that we mean, conveying the information you want to convey. If you are not writing words, but writing for an effect, with the eye to the emotional response you want your reader (hearers) to have, you will go wrong, and create nothing that makes sense nor moves anyone.

Instead, remember that a writer writes words. That's the key to good writing. Write what you want to say, using words. Write what you are thinking. Don't try to be polished and nuanced and subtle. If you are polished and nuanced in your thinking, then it will come out on the paper. If you're not, don't pretend to be. Just write. If you attempt to write in a way that your brain doesn't work, what will show up on your paper will be meandering and vague. It is inevitable: what is in your brain will show up on paper, in some form. If you're unclear about the point you are making, your unclarity will be seen by all. If you're certain about what you want to write, then your writing will be uncertain. But if it's the case that you're not sure which approach would be best, that is, what sort of argument to make, how to introduce this topic which builds to that topic, what kind of rhetorical outline or composition to use, the best approach is to simply pick one and write. If it's the wrong approach or outline, then you'll know when you edit it.

If you're writing because you want the reader to feel the way you feel, then you must feel, and write what you feel and explain why. Know what you want to say, then write it down. It works.