Westward

Annnd it's done! Despite some last minute problems, my book, Westward: The History of One American Family from Jamestown to the City of Roses, is out there on Amazon.

J. S. Mill Was Right

Note that this does not simply apply to your opponents; you, too, should be seeking out differing opinions and directly addressing them, not just the evil story you've concocted.

Doubt and Mother Teresa

Mother Teresa was one of the most influential Christian leaders of the last century. Yet, she wielded very little power, led no great crusades, and avoided speaking in public. Her example was that of a simple, devoted woman of God. It is little wonder that, when her personal letters were published, a faith that was often deeply troubled was revealed. Doubt and the apparent "Silence of God" are chronic problems in a Christian's walk, but I find her example well worth the examination.

“Ask Jesus not to allow me to refuse Him anything, however small,” she wrote. Later adding that she would rather die than decline to act on the least of Jesus’ wishes.  Yet, she was continually tormented by doubts,

Lord my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The child of your love—and now become as the most hated one—the one You have thrown away as unwanted—unloved. I call, I cling, I want—no, No One.—Alone. The darkness is so dark—and I am alone.—Unwanted, forsaken.—The loneliness of the heart that wants love is unbearable.—Where is my faith?—even deep down, right in, there is nothing but emptiness & darkness.—My God—how painful is this unknown pain. Pains without ceasing.—I have no faith.—I dare not utter words & thoughts that crowd in my heart—& make me suffer untold agony. So many unanswered questions live within me—I am afraid to uncover them—because the blasphemy—If there be God,—please forgive me.—Trust that all will end in Heaven with Jesus.—When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven—there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my soul.—Love—the word—it brings nothing.  

The pain of hell, Teresa mused later, is the pain of separation from God. Citizens of Hell could cheerfully endure their pain if they had hope of God’s reprieve, yet there would be none. In her doubt, this was her state of mind: she believed that God had turned His back on her and that she was no longer wanted by God. God, as it were, disappeared. And if God were dead to her, then Jesus was dead. If Jesus was dead Love was dead, and, if Love were dead, her continued work was meaningless. Through it all, she endured that pain, quietly, humbling doing the work she knew was required of her. “I beg You only one thing—“ she asked at the depth of her personal Hell, “please do not take the trouble to return soon.—I am ready to wait for You for all eternity.”  In time, she was reminded of St. Paul’s word to the Colossians: “Who now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up that which is behind of the afflictions of Christ in my flesh for his body's sake, which is the church.”  She began to love the pain and doubt, the darkness and pain of separation from God, until, paradoxically, she could claim: “The greater the pain and darker the darkness the sweeter will by my smile at God.”

The Juvenilization of American Christianity

The most energizing part of being a historian—about looking at old things—is the realization that every “new” thing we discover and joyfully own for ourselves has really been around for a long while and that those “new” things, if we judge them as bad, were not necessarily foisted upon us as a result of some nefarious plot to destroy the future. Rather, decisions in the past were made to deal with real problems, in the most appropriate and thoughtful manner possible in their own time. As such, one day, we wake up and realize that we have to deal with a number of unintended consequences. In Thomas E. Bergler’s book,The Juvenilization of American Christianity, we have an excellent history of one such trend.

Bergler focuses on a part of Church history that I was not very aware of (1920-1970). During that time American Christianity underwent a series of deeply significant changes as it related to its youth. Soon after the First World War through the late 1960s, American Christians felt deeply troubled by declining membership. At the same time, a “crisis of civilization” loomed over the American church; WWI, fascism, communism, the Great Depression, WWII, and, finally, the prospect of nuclear obliteration all pushed much-needed reforms in the Church’s handling of its young people. Throughout this period, Christian leaders worried that its youth would slip away, leaving both the Church and the country at the hands of evil men. The Church began to focus more and more on youth as a bulwark against eroding Christian values in the culture. Protestant and Catholic, Black and White all sought to bring youth into the fold, to bring them to a mature understanding of Christ and their Christian role in society and equip them for future ministry.

As a result, the Church began to cater to its youth. Rightfully concerned that “bobby-soxers” and “door key kids” would go unchurched, organizations like Youth for Christ began to emphasize the excitement of the Christian life. Christianity could be fun, after all. They hired professional musicians, used worldly marketing, and a call to political action to rouse what they thought was the natural inclination of youth toward a vital Christian life in the home and in the world. Promises of entertainment and self-fulfillment replaced the Victorian virtues of self-discipline and hard work, appealing to, what turned out to be, the lowest common denominator. The bar was lowered to allow generations of non-churched people to more comfortably enter the Church. Young people learned less about Christ and more about what it meant to be a good citizen. Eventually, young people were barraged with the demands of political activism, both in the realms of social justice and patriotic duty. Rightfully so the Church felt that it had a role to play in creating a better life for all people, but Christian adults put undue faith in that the young would shoulder this heavy load.

By the 1960s, this led to a sense of resentment in youth culture in general. As such, after two generations of making church fun and exciting, non-threatening and simple, young people demanded their independence, and they got their wish. In the mind of many youth leaders, the Church herself became an obstacle to true faith, its constricting dogmas and liturgical lifelessness were at odds with a youth now entitled to a church dedicated to their self-fulfillment. Feeling the simultaneous burden to fix the problems made by the older generation and the freedom to explore their faith without guidance from the Church, several philosophical streams invaded the church: mainly Existentialism (which I hope to tackle in my next book), social justice and a culture dedicated to self-improvement and self-exploration. As such, young people were encouraged to avoid finding answers, pat or not, and to “live the question” and to "find their own way."

As Bergler says, “Juvenilization has kept American Christianity vibrant,” yet it has also eroded much of what the Church has built up over the centuries. Biblical language and literacy disappeared in our churches for fear that Christian jargon would offend the “simple” sensibilities of today’s youth. We have learned, Bergler suggests, that “a well-articulated belief system is unimportant and might even become an obstacle to authentic faith.” Ever searching and never finding has become a sign of true spirituality. In our “seeker-friendly” and “purpose-driven” churches, many Christians today lack the mature discipline or inclination required to actually grow in their faith. God’s purpose is to make the Christian feel better and have more stuff. In a world where theology has become optional, perhaps even unnecessary, a faith focused on our emotional comfort becomes nearly indistinguishable from self-centeredness.

I did not expect this to be a historical account of the progress of juvenilization. As a history, this is a particularly engrossing book, yet I was expecting Bergler to focus on the woes of the modern American church a little more intensely. More balanced than expected, this book documents a trail of good intentions of our predecessors. Bergler seems to think that there are real benefits to juvenilization, and, where there are problems, suitable solutions can be brought to the table (though he offers no specifics). I have to admit, I was hoping that he would address some pet peeves I have with the American church: “shopping” for churches, pop psychology/existential sermons, “sentimental” Jesus, and superficial pop music that fills seems to be a mainstay of Christian radio (really, can we not do better than the I, vi, IV, V chord progressions?). I confess, these are my own prejudices for which I beg your forgiveness, but, for my own part, I wished that Bergler had pounded these things into the ground. I am glad that he did not though. Certainly, he finds these and others problematic, yet, Bergler is smart enough to understand the ebb and flow of culture and that our present is the product of our ancestors’ future.

Ultimately, this book should not be taken as a call to stop loving each other, improving our lives, or having fun. Rather, it should be a call to engage more fully in the life of the Church by growing spiritually and studying the hard things of our faith. Church history, eschatology, soteriology, and social justice as a mature outgrowth of our centeredness in Christ are difficult subjects both to master and to live out, yet we are doing a disservice to ourselves in their neglect. We should be enemies of religiosity and overly intellectualized teaching, but that certainly does not excuses us to remain spiritual children—and the Church, despite sometimes being pharisaical, is the only place that Christians can mature.

Final Interviews

I spent the day doing a few final interviews for my book. This morning I had the pleasure of talking with my dad's oldest brother, just talking about his memories of his grandparents' farm, war-time Portland, the Vanport flood and those years in Portland before I was born. Then, spent some time talking with a lady who came to Portland a few years before Grandma and Grandpa to build Victory ships as well. There's something strange and wonderful about talking with "old" folks that makes history seem real. If you get a chance, just ask some questions. It will always surprise you and it usually makes them feel good!

Last Bit of Reading

I just sent a draft of my book off for printing. I ordered a half-dozen copies to be given out for some peer review (and, more importantly, wife review). When I get feedback from some knowledgeable folks, it will be time for a final read-through before I send it to my editor. In the meantime, I guess *I* have a little more reading to do. Here's my final stack of research, a collection of general history, county and religious history I've been collecting for the past couple of years. It should help add some interest to the story that I'm trying to tell.

Last Rough Draft Chapter Written

Well, nothing like finishing the last chapter of your book. Just wrapped it up a few minutes ago; time for a break. Then, I need to read through what I have, write a prologue, intro and conclusion (because, ya know, I have no idea what this book is REALLY about yet). Then, it will be time to . . . ach! let's just be happy with this stage, Lee!!!

First Copy

I'm feeling pretty good about progress on the book--except for the cover, of course. This is my first draft in book form, so I can check layout, fonts, some picture/map layout, etc., all 204 pages so far The first two chapters are pretty good ("Tidewater" and "Pennsylvania Dutch"), I think, but I'm in the process of reworking the last four chapters now ("Being American", "Of Buckeyes and Hoosiers", "Iowa", and "The City of Roses"). Katherine and Mary, tell your husbands that I haven't forgotten them and I should have a rough draft for them to look at by, say, the end of October. Expected final release: around Superbowl time.

It's official, I've released my first full-length book!

It's official, I've released my first full-length book: Southern Accents: The Ancestry of Lena Nancy Minerva Morgan.

It's been a long, strange sort of ride. I've had the pleasure of working with so many people. I had the unexpected surprise of meeting cousins I never knew existed and consummate professionals. It's impossible to imagine completing this book without their help.

I've also been amazed by the places I've gone. I've visited once bustling cotton plantations (now heavily wooded hills) where my ancestors worked and stood in churches they attended. Standing over their graves has stirred emotions I cannot, even now, come to grips with.