Huston Smith is best known for this, his book The World’s Religions, and a miniseries he hosted that inspired the book, called The Religions of Man. His 90 years of experience and lifelong pursuit of knowledge about the world’s major paths of faith are what he is known for.

This book is perhaps one of the most all-enveloping and well known explorations of the major religions of the world. For me it was highly educational, filling in many of the gaps about what I knew of Hinduism, Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, Christianity and others.

But perhaps even more impressive than the sheer facts was that Smith, despite his own upbringing as the child of Christian missionaries, treats each religion with the utmost respect and honor. Apparently he’s taken up multiple faith practices throughout his life and, in so doing, understands multiplicity better than most, and that honoring differences of faith is the perhaps one of the healthiest things we can do in a society that seems to be more splintered day by day.

This is not a book for wimps; it took me a solid two months to read, completely throwing off any reading momentum I’d had up until I started. It’s dense but readable and, if nothing else, is challenging to anyone with preconceived notions about any one religion. Having considered myself to be fairly open-minded until reading this, I’d venture to guess it’s going to be a challenging book for most, but worth reading despite that.

Certainly I have my own struggles with relative and absolute truth, and I have yet to decide if this book helped or harmed in my exploration, but I appreciate all that I learned in the process. If nothing else, it opened me up to more of what humanity as a whole believes (and doesn’t believe) about what is true regarding morals, time, life, death, nature and love. And that is valuable, regardless of the journey.

It takes a hell of a lot of energy, courage, thought and faith to take your foundation, drop it off a cliff and start over. It’s the biggest undertaking any of us will ever attempt. And, for some reason, I’ve discovered that continually doing so is what keeps me motivated to keep going. I’ve never felt so satisfied realizing that I know so little.

It’s not so much that I enjoy freeing myself of my beliefs, philosophies and values. It’s more that, when I look at those who don’t go about this process, the cancer of complacency is written all over their graying faces. Challenging my own ideas is what I do best, it seems, and the one habit I can’t seem to free myself of when shedding my ball and chain is judging those who, knowingly or not, do not deny themselves — mind, soul and spirit included — for the sake of their own personal development and enlightenment.

Today, the concept of Universal Truth is on the table.

To those who deny it, it sounds like the product of fundamentalist rubes. Only one Truth is possible. One timeline; one explanation for life, the universe and everything; one way we’ll experience the afterlife, if an afterlife exists at all. It’s impossible that you and I could experience two very different things in the very same circumstance, and even less possible that two contradicting beliefs can both be right. It just makes sense.

But relative truth certainly has its appeal. A world where we can justify our actions by claiming relative truths sounds much fancier and full of options, but it’s hard not to wonder if the motivations still boil down to one enveloping universal truth: we don’t want anyone to challenge what we believe. In other words, selfish individualism (which potentially leads to the death of community and tradition).

On the other hand, universal truth denies the gray area of differing cognitive realities. Part philosophy, part neurology, we can’t prove that what I see is what you see. Somehow (if I’m not just imagining you all exist in my own self-created universe) we all manage to get on the same relational wavelength about whether or not that blue rubber ball just rolled off the table and bounced into a corner. But hallucinations, misinterpretations and crossed wires in the brain can’t be overlooked either, therefore invalidating the mind from being an entirely trustworthy vessel of Truth.

What it comes down to is the fact that it’s hard for me to shed the weight of 25 years of dogma — which I find increasingly full of cracks — when I’m trying to pragmatically explain why I know that, despite the billions of people that disagree, my truth is the Truth.

Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism. If there is one Universal Truth, why are we all so split on what we believe? Why is there no clear front-runner with the vast majority of the votes? What gives me, a WASP if there ever was one, the right to think that what I believe is right? If I were born and raised by Iranians in Iran, I’d be a Muslim. No doubt about it. My core foundation, that I continually push off a cliff — and eventually dive after to retrieve every damn time — seems more a product of my environment than some spark of inspired awareness imbued in me by a greater power.

Maybe I lack faith. Maybe I just got lucky. Or maybe the only Universal Truth is that every venue of faith is true and, despite the overwhelming list of contradictions, they all converge into one path in ways that are beyond our ability to understand. (It should be just as easy to use what faith we have to accept plurality as it is to faithfully believe in only one way; the attempted use of empirical evidence to pick one over the other will continually fail.)

But I don’t know. I really don’t. I’m somehow satisfied with not knowing. It’s surprisingly easy to relate to people when willing to admit to knowing nothing. And I like it that way.

The other day my friend Brett wrote in defense of using violence in a last-resort situation to solve problem. He addressed it in a mature way that I completely understand and, while I am writing to support pure pacifism instead, it’s not meant to be in opposition to him directly (and not the least bit personal), but more of a devil’s advocate response. Well, sort of. I currently haven’t decided exactly where I stand when it comes to violent measures “when necessary.” So I’m partially writing to get an idea out that’s been bouncing around my head, too.

First off, this argument is founded on general Christian ideology, so if that’s not how you swing, read on only for your own entertainment.

In America, Christians glorify the martyrs of the faith in other parts of the world. We stand in awe of those willing to stand up for their faith and die for it, then sit comfortably and question why it is that American Christians rarely die for theirs. It’s because it isn’t threatened here, in the land of free worship. But I argue that it is still threatened, albeit indirectly.

There is a fair amount to support the idea that Jesus taught pure pacifism. Not an idea closed to reasonable debate, but it’s a substantial point made in the New Testament. If that side is taken, then we should, ideally, not cause harm others when our safety and the safety of those around us is threatened. Instead, we should take the “third way” (as Shane Claiborne calls it in Jesus for President [see my review]) and respond unexpectedly, however that may be.

When we talk about peacemaking and the “third way of Jesus,” people inevitably ask bizarre situational questions like, “If someone broke into your house and was raping your grandmother, what would you do?” We can’t exhaustively troubleshoot every situation with nonviolent “strategy,” but what we can do is internalize the character and spirit of Jesus. We can meditate daily on the fruit of the Spirit and pray that they take root in us. Then we can trust that when we encounter a bad situation, we will act like Jesus.

At one festival, I was asked after a talk, “What would you do if you lived in Darfur and had a gang of young men running at you with machetes?” I though such a strange question deserved an equally far-out answer, so I said, “I’d take off my clothes and run around like a chicken, squawking wildly and pecking at the ground with my mouth.” I figure the chicken response is about as likely to disarm a mob of young hooligans as my trying to fight them. Either response would be ugly, but I’d opt for the former. I’ve already decided that the next time I get jumped, I’m going to turn some backflips and act like a ninja. Or I might just get on my knees and start speaking in tongues. Either seems as likely to hold promising results. At any rate, these aren’t solutions for the tragic situations of brothers and sisters in areas like the Sudan. Without a doubt, protecting the innocent is one of the strongest arguments for redemptive violence. A bunch of folks running around like naked chickens is not a solution to the crisis there. But the story of my friend Celestin [who continued to teach forgiveness and reconciliation, to eye-opening results, after militant Rwandans killed many in his church family] is. After all, Jesus didn’t say, “Greater love has no one than this, to kill to protect the innocent.”

The end idea is this: if we truly believe Christ’s teachings, and it is true that he asked for our peace and pacifism, we are martyrs if we stand up for that belief in any situation where our physical safety is threatened by another person.

Is this easy to do? No, not at all. But I’d wager that, if a nonviolent movement of Christians were to rise in this country, someone would take notice and perhaps see something in our faith that hasn’t been seen in quite some time through the inevitably martyrdom that would occur, even if not in great numbers. Something that goes beyond lots of words and cheesy attempts at evangelism and actually gets at the core of our faith and our humanity.

Defensive violence makes sense in a logical world where our own survival is of the highest value. But if our faith is what defines us, then it is for it that we should be willing to die, even when given the opportunity to fight back.

She was forced to have sex with hundreds of men before she turned 10. After such a brutal past, what does her future hold? In a Marie Claire exclusive, Sreypov Chan tells her phenomenal life story.

(via Diary of a Sex Slave: Child Prostitution in Cambodia)

Have I ever told you about my sister? I don’t think I have. Not on my blog, at least.

Jessica works in Pattaya, Thailand: a city renowned for its prostitution problem. For many severely perverted men around the world, this is a great place. For most everyone else, it’s one of the darkest places on earth.

My sister’s job in Pattaya is to play music and hang out in bars on Walking Street (the central location for most of the city’s prostitution) and elsewhere around town, befriending prostitutes and pointing them to resources to help them get out of the endless cycle and into a safe, healthy job. She also runs a church for many of the women who have escaped the sex industry.

Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to visit Jessica and see what she does in Pattaya. We went to her church, strolled Walking Street (during daylight hours) and got a feel for her life. She deals with stories similar to Sreypov Chan’s all the time.

If I hadn’t known it before, those couple days that I got to see Pattaya proved to me that my sister is strong. If you want more stories, not just bad ones, but the happy endings, you should check out her blog. (And, she didn’t ask me for this, but if you would like to make a donation to fund what she’s doing there, you can do so here. It’d make for a damn good Christmas gift.)

Søren Kierkegaard is an irate, spiritual philosopher who had some issues with the way the Christian community was doing their thing in his day. So basically a more prominent, more vocal version of me. And from Denmark.

Provocations is a collection of his spiritual writings put together some time back. I somehow came across the book as a free PDF and, knowing what I did of Kierkegaard’s work, decided it’d be good to at least be aware of what he was saying.

The book covers a lot of territory, so it was helpful to get an idea from the start what he was standing for. His main arguing points are for a very subjective faith. That is, he believes faith to be a very personal thing, that no expansion of knowledge about one’s set of beliefs helps save them, that faith is the foundation and everything else is secondary.

He takes these ideas to extreme ends, but they are ends that should be explored. He does so with a fair amount of attitude and calling-out of bad Christian habits. He also comes to conclude that the “Christianization” of our world creates an environment where “everyone is a Christian, so no one is a Christian.”

Today’s martyrs will not bleed, as formerly, because they are Christians – yes, it is almost insane! They will be put to death because they are not “Christians.” Frightful drama! And how alone the martyr will stand!

I recommend Provocations for anyone who enjoys philosophical discussions on faith and wants to take faith to its necessary ends in order to see what the Christian life might look like without a need for arguments over doctrine and theology or a “Christian elite,” as he might call it were he to see the state of modern church life.

To be clear, though: I do not entirely agree with everything Kierkegaard has to say, but enough of it that this was an encouraging and growth-inducing read. I firmly believe that we should have no fear of any question, and Kierkegaard challenges those ideas of where the ends of the earth lie. I respect his life’s work much for that alone.

Evangelical churches must understand that making the Church relevant through trying to “meet people where they are” is a valid philosophy to attract numbers. But, it is a flawed approach when numbers become the end in and of itself. Relationship should take precedence over the spectacle.

(via RELEVANT Magazine – Church Shopping)

Apparently I saved this quote a while back so I could write about it. And now, here I am, writing about it, I guess.

Numbers don’t make for a good church. You can have a big church that is good, but it gets harder and harder as it grows. I’m a missionary’s kid, so I’ve been to my share of churches. And, let me tell you, the big ones where they buy up a city block to run all their programs and services were almost always the ones that frustrated me. And the small ones with a loyal, long-time congregation were the ones where you felt like a family.

I don’t know what the evangelical fascination with numbers is all about; especially with its lack of hierarchy, it only opens up the possibility for trouble once leadership is too small to manage everyone on a first-name basis.

And that’s all I have to say about that.

The other day a friend related a story to me of a man he knew who had been caught cheating on his wife. And not just any man, but a priest (in a denomination that allows marriage, of course).

The idea of infidelity has always bothered me. Now that I’m in a serious relationship, it bothers me even more.

I wonder how many of the men who cheat on their wives once thought what I do: that I’d never cheat and don’t know how anyone ever could.

I’m not suggesting that I feel like I’m unaware of how capable I am of cheating. But it does scare me. What slippery slope do these men go down that leads to dirty deeds behind their wives’ backs? Certainly something else had to come before the cheating. And, of all people, it seems as though a priest should have the character of passion, fervor and devotion that would hold him back even more so than many people.

I don’t have anything else to say, really. I guess I’m just shocked that this happens, and probably more often than I’m aware of. The more I grow, the more I realize how different we are from each other. Much like with murder, it’s clear that we all have different shortcomings that we struggle with.

I love Scott Adams. I read his blog daily and enjoy many of his thought experiments and meanderings. I was a fan of his comic Dilbert by the time I hit 7th grade. Yeah, I was that kid. I suppose it’s no surprise I had an office job by the time I was 16.

So why it took so long to get around to reading God’s Debris — his short, free thought experiment of a book — is a mystery to me. I literally started last night and finished this morning. It was, as expected, an easy read that was thoroughly thought-provoking.

The entire book is a conversation between two men. One is teaching the other his theory on life, the universe and everything based on the simplest explanations for everything.

The climactic idea they reach is this: God, being omnipotent and all-knowing, can know everything except what would happen were He to no longer exist. So in an effort to maintain His omniscience, He destroys himself. This destruction is our Big Bang, and the entire existence of the universe is a collection of His debris, slowly reformulating into a single consciousness as God recollects himself back into His all-powerful self.

Yeah, it sounds crazy and weird. That’s what’s so fun about it. And the fact that Adams explains it so easily only makes it that much better of a read.

I highly recommend God’s Debris for anyone who enjoys exploring philosophy and religion. You can download it as a free PDF and it’s a very quick read, so there’s not much excuse not to read it.

Yet another Scott Hahn book. In other words, another book arguing in favor of Catholicism from a guy who used to be a Presbyterian minister and theologian.

This one is an examination of the Catholic Mass, explaining many of its parts, but mostly looking at it from the context of the book of Revelation. He argues, rather convincingly, that Armageddon is the current time we are in and that, while we are in the midst of Mass, we are actually in heaven, and not just symbolically. Instead of looking at political events in search of the end times, he matches up almost every key aspect of the final book of the Bible with an aspect of Mass. I won’t list those things off here because, well, there’s a lot of them. Plus, I’m no expert at Catholicism or the book of Revelation so a lot of it was new to me.

This book will be surprising to most evangelicals, who try to draw parallels with current events while they flip through Revelation, but (this was surprising to me) many educated in the Catholic tradition won’t find much of this new at all. It became clear to me as I was reading that Revelation was written with the Church and Mass in mind, not as some wacked-out prophecy about how the world will end. Sure, it was written in a strange format, but it’s impressive how much of it lines up with the procession of Mass and the overall structure of the Church.

Like I said, I won’t try to argue in favor of the ideas presented in The Lamb’s Supper because I’d fail quickly. But if you’re interested in end times theology, the Catholic Mass or finding heaven on earth, this will be an eye-opening book for you.

People bring back traditional religious ideas in the funniest ways sometimes. I’m sure this man is aware that “sabbatical” and “sabbath” share the same root. Taking time off has its value. I wouldn’t mind a year off every 7. So many projects and ideas I could take the time to develop and flesh out.

My dad gets a sabbatical from his work once every ten years. His just started a month ago. It won’t be a full year, but it’s something. I have to admit I’m a bit jealous, and curious to talk to him at Thanksgiving next month about how it’s been going.