I had lunch with a friend recently who told me he’d never experienced sleep paralysis prior to me talking about it. This is one of the danger about talking publicly about very mysterious things. Once you set it in motion, like a cat, you can’t quite predict what will go down. A few others have e-mailed me with stories of strange dreams. Of course, the important question is always, “How does this experience square with the God of scripture and God’s purposes in the world.”

My favorite line came from another friend who, in reflecting upon the teaching, said, “I’m simply waiting for one guy to step up, say God gave him a dream, and that he’s going to marry the girl that no one else is dying to marry.” That is, in his experience, guys strangely have dreams about the girls everyone else would love to date/marry too. One of the signs that the revelation/dream is of God is if it dares you to take a risk and do something uncomfortable.

Everything is Spiritual is brilliant. Besides, if nothing else . . . you will watch it and finally understand every episode of LOST that’s ever confused you (as I’ve heard is happening in some circles).

Everything is spiritual.

Everything is connected.

I really believe that. Do you?

—

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been the toilet-cleaner. I’m not speaking in metaphoric terms here (as I’m often prone to do), I’m being as literal as one can be. I remember cleaning toilets as part of my weekly chores growing up in the Graves household. In addition, I also was responsible for the dreaded taking-out-of-the-trash. Compared to scraping the remains of my family’s dinner from the bottom of the porcelain throne (as it was called in my circles of friends in high school), taking out the trash was picking daisies.

It is hard to take yourself too seriously when you clean toilets. It gives you a sense that we are all, as Genesis gently reminds us, created from dust and to that dust we will all return. We are created, finite, beings. Complex? Of course. But temporary. At least for now.

I ate breakfast with a respected friend recently when he started telling me how he now cleans the toilets where he works. Every week, he loads up his three children, and for nearly three hours, they vacuum, wash, scrub and . . . miracle of miracles . . . they clean toilets. One little detail I’ve left out–this friend is the Vice President of this company, on his way to being President in a few short years.

Since Kara and I have been married it’s my job to clean toilets. Now to be fair, I probably don’t do as much “around the house” (a Midwestern expression) as I should. Kara pays the bills, organizes meals, cleans, monitors the social calendar (did I mention she’s pregnant and a full-time grad student?), etc. But the responsibilities of cleaning toilets are set aside for moi.

Barbara Brown Taylor says, in An Altar in the World, that God erects altars all over the world. Spirituality is asking God to give us the eyes to see these holy intersection. In his day, Jesus told his disciples that they couldn’t really be his apprentices until they learned to clean toilets. Actually, he said they had to learn to wash feet–one of the most degrading and disgusting acts in the first century.

If we were speaking to us today, I think Jesus would make us clean each other toilets. Seriously. When we moved into our first house, the one we currently live in, our friends, the Barton’s (John, Sara, Nate and Brynn) were some of the first to arrive to help us move in. True to their character (they lived in East Africa for several years prior to coming to Rochester), their very first act was to clean both of our bathrooms and replace our toilet seats. Top to bottom. Cleaned to the last detail. Including the toilet.

I’ve been known tease John Barton (twice my boss: V.P. at RC and elder at Rochester Church) that I think of him every time I’m in my bathroom and . . . well . . . , I’ll stop there.

Jesus said that his movement was about towels not titles. I’d like to think that we need to bring people to the same teaching. Jesus’ movement is not about titles . . . it’s about toilets.

I’m sure marketing guru’s all over the world are salivating.

This morning, we spent time following up with different people from this past Sunday’s time in The Park. Overall, it was a good morning. We met up, at one point, with Mark. Mark is on his way back, getting out of the cycles of addiction and poverty.

Among other things, I took Mark a suit to wear for an interview he has this week. As I drove him back to where he was staying, the conversation turned to the everyday task of following Jesus (”keeping the Lord first,” were his precise words). Towards the end of the conversation, he sad, “I ain’t gonna lie to ya. Life’s hard right now. Real hard. The devil is 24 hours. Devil don’t quit. Always working. Always waiting to get you.”

Mark wasn’t simply describing a man with a red devil costume on with the proverbial pitch fork in hand. He was talking about the reality that evil is a power in our world. Evil is not merely something we choose, rather, it is an oppressive reality: it seeks to steal, kill, and destroy.

Most folks in the circles I run in don’t talk like that. They talk about bad decisions, and poor choices. And I’m all for talking that way myself. But I wonder if we trick ourselves into thinking that we have all the power. That living a virtuous life is simply about me mustering enough logical will to be good. That might be a religion, but it is not the Christian religion. Christianity says that God, in Jesus, has overcome the powers of this world, to make us better than we could ever make ourselves. Or, as one friend wrote this week: God has overcome the strong by his preference for weakness.

The devil is twenty-four hours. All day. Every day. But so is God. So is the Spirit. So is the Jesus who walked among us.

Time. This is a sensitive subject in our rat-race, gotta-do-one-more-thing culture. We feel a sense of pride when we look at our planners/palm pilots and see “our time” filled up. We feel important. We feel as if we matter. We feel full of purpose. The rub comes in our spiritual assessment of things . . . that is, after running (for God on our best days) we suddenly realize we ceased to pause for the things that ultimately matter, the lasting things.

Space. Though often ignored, space is as important as time. Especially in suburbia where “bigger is better.” After all, we want bigger houses, cars, backyards, HD screens, and engagement rings. We may not always know what we want but we know we want it Super-Sized. The downside, of course, of living in a McDonaldized World is that we crowd out room for God’s surprises and interruptions.

While technology promises to make life better so that we can have more time and space for others, we slowly become slaves to the very things that are supposed to set us free. We begin to stack bricks for the vacation home, ESPN, Apple, the Shopping Network, The Gap, American Idol, and e-mail (dare I say blogging?).

God wants to meet us in particular moments (time) and particular places (space). But he never forces himself upon us. Like a patient lover, he waits . . . and waits . . . and waits. He waits for us to get serious about how we spend our time and where we spend our space.

Last night, we held a contemplative prayer service at Rochester Church. It was filled with prayers, readings, silence, confession, worship, more silence, repentance, and listening. It was holy because we gave up “our” time and “our” space to hear from the One who spoke creation into being.

Like You’d Understand Anyway (Shepard). A terrific collection of short stories, this book is an amazing example of what it truly means to be able to write from the inside of a character/story/particular setting. From a nuclear meltdown in Russia, to a cataclysmic tidal wave in Alaska, this writer can weave a tale with the best of them. I highly recommend this for aspiring story-tellers and emerging writers.

Soul in Society (Dorrien). WARNING: This book is highly academic. Dorrien does an excellent job of capturing one segment of Christianity in America in the 20th Century: mainline Protestantism. It was a great read for me as I’m largely under-read in this area. From Hells Kitchen to the Ivory Tower of Columbia University, Dorrien captures the major players and movements that shaped Christianity from 1900 to present day. First rate primer for those interested in the intersection of history, religion and the public sphere.

Emerging Churches (Gibbs and Bolger). I read this in grad school and thought it was good. I picked it up a few weeks ago and was impressed with the authors’ ability to survey emerging movements in U.K. as well as the U.S. Thoroughly researched and carefully crafted, this is the standard survey of the way different groups of Christian faith are choosing to engage contemporary culture with an ancient story.

A Theology of Public Life (Matthewes). Another WARNING: highly academic. The entire work is written for those who have a working knowledge of Augustine’s writing and thinking. I know just enough Augustine to get me in trouble. Ha. Anyways, there are sections of this book which help contemporary debates come along. Make no mistake. Pack your lunch for this book. It’s a heavyweight fight for 12 rounds.

Jesus Wants to Save Christians (Bell and Golden). Overall, a phenomenal interpretive work bringing the Exodus Story in contemporary American religion discourse. Missional to the core, this is Bell’s most “political” book. Of course, by “political” I don’t mean Republican or Democrat. I am thinking of the idea that the church is a political force. That is, they are interested in how people construct values, practices, and care.

These are the books I’m reading currently/about to read.

A Mercy (Toni Morrison). Compelling novel set in 17th century America. There are no good characters or bad characters. Every character is complex, full of potential for good and evil. I’m told by others who read a lot of Morrison that this is her best book in years.

An Altar in the World (Barbara Brown Taylor). If you read this blog, it will not surprise you when I say that BBT is perhaps, the best writer of our time. Period. Of course I realize that’s an incredibly subjective statement (not to mention I get to study under her this summer). Since 2001, Taylor has been my voice for faith in the midst of doubt. After just getting into the beginning sections, I can tell I’ll be reading this book a few times over . . . this year.

Praying Like Jesus (Mulholland). Recommended by this great blogger, Mulholland’s ability to capture the mystery of The Lord’s Prayer without making things too complex is appealing to me. Mulholland gives particular attention to the way in which The Lord’s Prayer critiques consumer culture.

The Great Emergence (Tickle). Rave reviews have passed my ears on this book. Haven’t started it yet. Looks powerful. I assume this will be written in the same vein as McLaren’s trilogy: A New Kind of Christian, Story We Find Ourselves In, and The Last Word.