Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Cultural Exegesis

"Exegesis" is an academic term used to describe the work of "pulling out" a writer's intended meaning from a written text. ("Hermaneutics" is a broader term describing the work of interpretation, and a somewhat trying if not always interesting seminary class.) Both take into account the original audience, the historical factors present and those truths that remain true to all audiences in all ages. Both require putting assumptions and biases to the side.

We're still quite new to Juneau and Southeast Alaska. We've never lived here before, so it would be arrogant of me to assume I know this place or what's going on. I am beginning the work of "exegeting" our new culture. But with culture the realities are not necessarily written down, something like house rules that are not in print but are widely acknowledged by everyone in the house.

My friend Caleb has reminded me that Alaska is a land of extremes; and I am already finding this to be true. The scenery and weather are certainly extreme. And I am finding a noticeable divergence between various sub cultures in our immediate area. Juneau is our State's Berkeley, or Madison, or Bellingham. The downtown core takes pride in its "liberality." Some of the churches in the Valley seem to emphasize their "separatism" from the greater culture. And there are other Alaskans who fight for their relative isolation and autonomy. And I'm prayerfully trying to figure out my place, my role, my niche, my opportunity to become another mouthpiece for the gospel in this place.

I want to be a partner and not an adversary (or a threat) to the churches already established here in Juneau. I do not want to be guilty of the arrogance that comes with being judgmental, for I am not the first person called to Juneau to preach Jesus and His Kingdom. I do not want to make snap assumptions regarding our culture, nor toward the people who make up our culture.

"We [I] do not know what to do, but our [my] eyes are on You." (2 Chronicles 20:12B). My inabilities, my ineptitude  convince me to approach this calling (and the necessary cultural exegesis) with humility; something like moving forward while on my knees. I'm waiting on my God to tell me what to do, how and when to do it.

I know I am called to preach the timeless, unchanging good news of the gospel of Jesus in a way that can be understood by this immediate culture. Without compromise, but with contextualization while my work of exegesis continues unending.

Friday, February 17, 2012

What is it you do...exactly?

It's a little strange visiting other churches, like a stranger, like a shopper even. It's even stranger when I'm asked what I "do."

My wife has a responsible and therefore acceptable employment pedigree. She has worked in the past for several school districts. Everyone cares about kids. She has also worked for the State of Washington. In Juneau the Alaska State Government employs more people than anyone else can see fit to hire. Deb will again work for one of those entities...or for someone else. I seriously doubt if she will end up working for the area's second most prolific employer, the fishing industry.

Me on the other hand? People ask me what I do, and I tell them the truth: I'm here to plant a church. Saying that to some people while standing in their own church building after a worship service has caused some looks of consternation while they're probably wondering "What does he think is wrong with my church?" Some other folks have asked me, "Why here?" While my first thought is to respond with a pithy "Why not?" I do find myself answering with "Because I'm 'called' to do this here." One guy asked me, "Who called?"

I even wonder about this myself. What is it I do exactly? In the old days I would have said, "Drink lots of coffee while reading my Bible." Now I pray for people I do not know, yet. I pray for a city and region I am getting to know, and love. I spend time trying to figure out the cultural rhythms and prevailing idols here in our mountain-surrounded, rain-soaked version of Athens. I ask God to give me people to talk to who do not necessarily affiliate with a local church, or with our present yet omnipresent God. And I do ask God to make me busy; real busy. Maybe I should tell people I'm really a missionary.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Things we do have; and things we don't

We're adjusting to our new community. Some things are familiar while others are requiring a little re-calibration. Juneau does have Safeway, Fred Meyer and even a Costco. Juneau also has PetSmart and Office Max; even Les Schwab Tires. Juneau is already a Walmart town. Sadly, Juneau does not have Trader Joe's. On the plus side, Juneau does not have noticeable traffic. Juneau does have snow-covered mountains in every direction. Juneau also has bald eagles and apparently certain neighborhoods (like the one we're looking to move into) have the occasional "bear problem."

Juneau does not yet have Verizon Wireless, so we're roaming in a new digital (read: expensive) way ."Internet Speed" is an oxymoron. Apparently Deb and I can both be online from our hotel room; just not at the same time.

Juneau does not have Bank of America. I've been a BofA customer since 1983, and it appears they don't want us to leave. One voice on the other end of an 800 number told me, "Sir, we don't want you to close your accounts with us." I replied, "Is that why you make it so difficult to do so?" And he said, "Sorry about that. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

Deb and I are now new members of Alaska USA Federal Credit Union. They are a friendly and civil lot who pride themselves on customer service. We will not be former BofA customers until I find my way into a branch the next time we're in the Lower 48, this summer Lord willing. There are some things missing here in Juneau for which I will never be nostalgic.

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Alaska Plates

Years (many years) ago I remember standing in line at the DMV in Lake Grove Oregon. It was then and there I surrendered my blue with yellow letters California license plates for yellow with blue letters Oregon plates. I also remember feeling like they took a piece of my soul when they took my plates. I so identified with being a Californian. I was thoroughly Californicated. It was who I knew myself to be. But I got over it, in time.

Years later, relocating from California a second time, this time to Washington (the State; not the DC) the changing of license plates came with little emotional turmoil. By that time I had resigned myself to never seeing the sun again. But (after five or so years of complaining) Washington grew on me. I became a Washingtonian, a proud Northwesterner.

This week I exchanged our Washington plates for Alaska plates. Truth be told, I'm pretty excited about it. Truth be told, I never liked the Washington plates anyway. Washington is the "Everegreen State," so why not a stitch of green on their plates? That would have made too much sense, I guess. Instead the State of Washington chose a white background with a very light blue Mt. Rainier and red letters. Reminds me still of the old Houston Oiler's colors. Never much liked the Oilers.

Now we have Alaska Plates. We're excited to have them because we're excited to be here. God is going to do something in/with/through us, and we're excited to find out what. The Alaska plates are classy in their simplicity:  yellow background, blue letters, state flag (also yellow and blue.) Makes perfect sense to me.

Friday, February 3, 2012

Camping Out

We  arrived Monday morning to a Juneau blanketed in snow. We secured a mailing address the same day, bank accounts on Tuesday, drivers' licenses on Wednesday, and registered the cars on Thursday. We're official. We live in Alaska. We're residents.

But we're not natives. We're not even "sourdoughs" (long termers.) We're "Cheechako's." Newcomers. Greenhorns. Rookies. (I wonder if Cheechako in the native tongue is at all related to the Hawaiian word "kook"? Hope not.)

And for us, home is temporary. We're camping out. We're holed up at the Extended Stay in a 23x11 room. It's cozy. We're right next (right next) to the airport. The photo to the right is not our weather reality.

Am I writing this from the living room, the bed room, the kitchen, the den? Yes!

It's almost like living in a college dorm room, except my roommate is a GIRL!

It's a good thing I'm madly in love with my wife; otherwise this current arrangement would not fly. You'll have to contact her directly to find out how it's flying for her.

We're Cheechako's. We're living temporary. We're camping out. But we're Alaska residents now. We're permanent. And happy to be so.