The Westminster Confession of Funk

Talking about theology, but keeping it funky

I am a husband and father and pastor of Trinity Covenant Church and teacher as St. Abraham’s Classical Christian Academy in Santa Cruz, CA.

I married my Indian Princess just before Y2K. I am an old fashioned Protestant Christian Humanist who lives where people vacation. I love music, love to surf, coach soccer for a hoard of minions, play the drums, and read actual flesh and blood books. I enjoy theology and literature and history and philosophy (if Sophie is serving beer) and Anglo-Saxon Poetry.

If I could have lunch with any three living people, I would have buffalo ribs with a butter, mushroom, cream sauce, Roxy Ray would be singing with Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings, and I’d be at table with Tom Wolfe, ?uestlove, and Adam Schlesinger (and Brad Bird, because it’s my fantasy, and no one can count in my fantasy).

If I could have dinner with any three dead people (and the TARDIS was there with its universal language translation circuit) I’d have slow smoked dry ribs with the author of Beowulf, Herodotus, Martin Bucer, and Polycarp (see the previous paragraph if you have questions about my ability to count). And Janis Joplin would be singing with Louis Armstrong and his All-Stars backed up by Parliament Funkadelic of course.

My carefully crafted internet persona is also much cooler than my actual person, but I can live with that.

Bring Your Shipwrecked Life

From the very beginning of our lives, we are a people dependent upon receiving grace. Grace that we have never given. Grace that we can not immediately return. We are born needy.

And we are born a fountain of both sin and beauty. And the sin and beauty are intermixed. Interwoven completely. Only the scalpel that can separate body and spirit can divide them. And this sin and this beauty is waiting for the might to make its mark on the world. Waiting for the strength to build and tear down.

Then God gives us to broken people. Needy people. Crooked and kinked people. Bent people. To raise and train and teach and nurture. And we are gift to them. And they are a gift to us.

And we need grace that we have never given to be given to us even before we can give it. We need to be fed and warmed and loved and taught how to sail our lives through the seas of life. Each of us taught to sail by the captain of a shipwreck.

When we are parents, we try and call from our shipwrecks to our children, hoping they will sail further than we have. But they all call, O Captain, my captain, why is your ship up on the rocks.

Religious pride tries to make sure others crunch their life on the same shoal of rocks that we have. But humility uses confession as a lighthouse others will avoid the rocks that we ruined our ship on.

Then we come together to worship God, and God takes our shipwrecks and knits us together, one providing a hull, another a mast, another a steering wheel, another a rudder. God picks up our shipwrecks and sews together the tatters of our torn sails into one great patchwork sail, stained with blood and tears, and it catches the winds of the breath of God. And we sail.

We are all broken people. On our honest days we know it. But God is building a church, all made out of shipwrecks, and it is all grace. It is all a gift. Because our God loves, our God builds us into one another. Lashing us together like foremast and flying jib.

So bring your crashed and broken life. Others need the broken parts to be made whole.