Christian George

Chopsticks are made from many materials—bamboo, plastic, bone, jade and ivory, and it’s been rumored that silver chopsticks were used in the Chinese imperial palace for the detection of poison in the Emperor’s meal. If the food was poisoned, the chopsticks would blacken when the poison encountered the silver. And someone usually lost his life because of it.

Christian music needs a Chinese chopstick test. Years ago, I attended a church in my city for the first time. Several friends told me that it was the hip, new church in the area, so I went to see it for myself. As I sung the praise music, I noticed a theme threaded throughout the service—the songs had nothing to do with God. Some of the tunes described the Christian life; others contained verses about struggles and temptations. Still others included a “pull yourself up by the boot straps” message. It was a Sunday morning I’ll never forget because I was struggling with a sin I couldn’t shake. So there I stood, singing songs about how I can pull myself out of my problems while my soul was craving was a worship experience that took the focus off my abilities and placed it on God’s glory. Only God could lift me from my mire and I left the sanctuary disgusted and dirty from digging in my own centeredness.

Music finds its primary purpose in the worship of God. I’m a sucker for all kinds of music—blues, jazz, classical and some Reggae here and there. And I love all the uses of music—entertainment, relaxation and therapy. But music finds ultimate significance in the adoration of its creator. While the Psalmist does say, “Sing God a brand-new song” (Psalm 96:1), there’s nothing wrong with the old ones. Some of the greatest hymns of the faith were written when the United States was still in diapers. Take a look at Charles Wesley’s Hymn, “And Can It Be?”

This isn’t miniskirt music—songs that barely cover the essentials. In this hymn Jesus Christ is the theme. His saving work on the cross is adored and his power to keep us from hell magnified. Songs like these revere the God who sits highly upon his throne while mortals are kept humbly before his feet.

There is a great absence of theological songs in our churches and we need to recover them. It’s so encouraging to see modern hymn writers like Keith Getty and Stuart Townsned writing songs like “In Christ Alone.” If you are a musician, resist the urge to water down your talent with whatever the market says is selling. Entrench yourself in the Scriptures and extract praise songs that bring glory to the God who “sings over his creation,” as C. S. Lewis writes.

Revival is brewing, and it’s time for authors and musicians to take the lead and be the voices of a new generation.

Here is a Primetime America interview I did with Greg Wheatley two days ago.

In Birmingham, Primetime aires on FM 88.5 in the evenings, about the time people are driving home from work (around 5:30 p.m.) Pardon all my “ums” and “uhs” — I’m still an amateur at this interview thing. Greg asked some really great questions, particularly about the idea of community and how that plays out in the Christian life. Of course, he’s not a sushi fan, (confession from his own lips), but who knows? It only takes one California Roll with the right amount of wasabi to change a person’s mind forever.

christian-george-primetime-america-interview.MP3

Mountains blurred past my window. Not just any mountains—Transylvanian mountains. My father and I were traveling through Romania to visit friends and encourage the seminary in Oradea, but deep down I wanted to see vampires. We were in the heart of Dracula country, and having packed my only turtleneck, I was ready for an attack.

After a long drive through the mountains near Oradea, we entered a large cave filled with bats. It was dark and old but there was enough light for me to see the stalagmites on the floor reaching up to touch the stalactites on the ceiling. Their dripping was eerie, but I inquired about the phenomenon. When mineralized water, mainly calcium carbonate, trickles from cavities in the ceiling of a cave, thin rings of calcite build upon one another. These rings eventually form a hollow tube that spans the height of the cave (stalactites also form on ceilings where there is a plumping leakage of limestone and other minerals).

Over a thousand years before Count Dracula lived, Jesus Christ was impaled on a wooden stake. The Romans had mastered the technique, nailing their subjects to wood. According to Pierre Barbet, a physician who practiced crucifying cadavers in a medical experiment, the Roman were probably were driven into Christ’s wrists, not his hands. This would have severed his median nerves and caused unequaled pain. “Christ must then have agonized and died and have become fixed in a cadaverous rigidity, with the thumbs bent inward into his palms.” For the Jewish faith, no punishment was worse. It is written, “Anyone who is hung on a tree is under God’s curse” (Deuteronomy 21:23, NIV).

Sliding my hand across a slippery rock, my thoughts turned upward. I thought grace. Perhaps humans are the recipients of divine dripping. Faith often forms like a stalagmite. The apostle John wrote, “This is the kind of love we are talking about—not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us” (I John 4:19). In the blackness of time, before there was time, God dripped his love onto us, creating us, forming us, and shaping us. God connects us to himself one drip at a time. It’s not our dripping that elevates us; gravity won’t allow that. But in his grace, God bends down to us and bring us to a place of contact. We touch the One who touches us and we confess with the Psalmist, “He made creeks flow out from sheer rock, and water pour out like a river” (Psalm 78:16).

Jesus could have called ten thousand angels to help him down from that cross. A little word would have done it. Perhaps even a passing glance and a legion of samurai seraphim would have hacked through the Roman army to save the Savior. They would have comforted him as they did in the wilderness after he dueled with the Devil (Matthew 4). But no word was ever uttered; except “Father forgive them; they don’t know what they’re doing” (Luke 23:34). And with every strike of the head, God was dripping us closer to himself. With every sting of the whip, God was drawing us to his side. And with every hit of the hammer, God was raising us up to himself.

In his book Virtual Faith, Tom Beaudoin suggested that the baby boomer generation has been very quick to gloss over the crucifixion of Christ and go straight to the victory and hope of the resurrection. The younger generations, however, are slowing down and re-examining the suffering of Christ. My generation wants to study the reality of the brutality. We want to take a closer look at those nails that split his tendons. And by examining the suffering of Christ, we discover how we are comforted in ours.

A faith that doesn’t cost much isn’t worth much. Christians are called to take up our crosses and follow God. Our crosses aren’t made of Styrofoam, but neither are they made of iron. The wood is enough for us and we can carry them, knowing they have been carried before.

The monster we fight is a crippled creature. He is a vampire without fangs, a werewolf without claws, and a dragon without fire. We shouldn’t flinch at him because Christ has crushed the head of the serpent, as predicted in Genesis 3:15. While his body still slithers, the creature has a massive concussion and will one day be thrown into the lake of fire.

After Jesus had been in the tomb for three days, the Father said, “My child, get up.” He declared, “Honey, it’s time to get on up out of that grave!” And Jesus was raised to life, and death was laid to rest. And the light of the world surfaced on the horizon, blinding vampires, demons and darkness. That’s why Christians place all our eggs in the Easter basket.

–from chapter nine, A Gory Gospel, in Sex, Sushi, and Salvation

My teeth sank into the cold, slimy fish. It was slippery on the tongue and sickening to the taste. The entire table of Japanese hosts watched as I tried to force the bite down. I had to think of a plan. Perhaps I could swallow it whole, quickly ending the oily ordeal. Perhaps I could store it in my cheeks for later. All eyes awaited my decision, but my mouth wouldn’t obey. My stomach begged me not to swallow and my throat swore revenge if I did.

The fish didn’t like being in my mouth. It was my prisoner of war and I wanted to free it. The Japanese take great pride in presenting their food to foreigners, and I knew it would be offensive to reject this delicacy. But what choice did I have? My jaw was locked, my tongue was tied and my mouth mutinied against me.

From the bowels of my being, I suddenly bellowed up the courage to swallow the thing—rice and all. It tasted of salt and shore, but after a quick breath and a short prayer, I put in my stomach what belonged in the sea and admitted to those around me that I had just lost my sushi virginity.

There are many types of sushi—finger sushi, box sushi, rolled sushi, battleship sushi, hand-rolled sushi, scattered sushi and sashimi (the raw stuff). Each type has a distinct history, texture and taste. And in an age of mega meal combos, it doesn’t hurt that sushi is low in fat and cholesterol, and that each roll contains fewer than one hundred calories.

Personally, the California roll is my favorite, though the Philadelphia roll–smoked salmon, cream cheese, and cucumber—also ranks highly (my sushi palette has a long way to go). I like the California roll not only because of the cucumber, crabmeat and avocado surrounded by a layer of rice and sesame seeds, but also because it reminds me to examine what’s at the center of my life. What does my core conceal? Pride? Lust? Envy? Sushi holds me accountable in a way and prompts me to keep God at my center. It also reminds me to go back to the Scriptures, the raw text, to celebrate and participate in the community that Christ offers to every believer. While it’s always important to read what others say about God, it’s best to digest the fresh word of God for ourselves. And when we do, we discover that center of our substance.

Good sushi, like real Christianity, is contagious. Perhaps it’s the fin-to-face encounter that keeps me coming back for more. Perhaps it’s the delicate balance of fish and sticky rice. Who knows, it could just be my appetite for something different, something raw, something real, something that stretches my taste buds. But whatever the reason, sushi continues to pull me into the proximity of its freshness, and l doubt it will ever let me go.

-from chapter seven, Sushi Faith, in “Sex, Sushi, and Salvation”

My new Book, “Sex, Sushi, and Salvation” comes out tomorrow. I am praying that this book will strike great revival in the hearts of those in my generation.

God is doing great things in our nation. There is a revival brewing in our land–a revival of twentysomethings who want to see God elevated in their lives. We are wiping off our spiritual milk mustaches and we’re digging into the Scriptures to discover God afresh. No more kitty pool Christianity, guys. The depths await us. We are going back in order to go forward. We are finding that the way down is the way up. And the God who pulls us to himself joins us for the journey.

So grab life by the chopsticks and enjoy a fresher faith!

Please pick up a copy and write an amazon.com review. Order your copy >>

The more I immerse myself in the publishing world, the more I realize that the best books are never written. They sit dormant in someone’s mind, occasionally emerging here and there, but never solidify into a manuscript. Rarely do writers find enough encouragement to put their thoughts into a proposal, and if they do, the odds of that proposal making it through the publishing process are slim to none.

Someone once told me that one out of every forty-six thousand proposals are accepted for publication. Subsequently, these great ideas wither into oblivion. Even at this very moment, there are writers out there who have something good to say, perhaps even crucial to say, who will never get an audience with a publishing house because of the marketing demands imposed by our consumeristic culture.

If you are one of these writers, don’t give up! Keep on keeping on. Wake up early and make it happen. Publishing is a crazy awesome way to communicate yourself. And long after death does what death does best, your book will still touch lives. You don’t have to feed a book to keep it alive. You don’t have to clean it or keep up after it. Some of the most influential individuals in my life died over a hundred years ago. Charles Spurgeon, for example, still ignites my appetite for God with his earthy, digestible words. Richard Baxter, Jeremiah Burroughes, and Jonathan Edwards urge me to take my calling as a Christian seriously and live as though I’ll live again.

All this to say–books will never go out of style. Sure, blogs will always be around and I’m destined to buy anything Apple makes that gives me quicker access to the internet, but there’s something incarnational about opening a book and flipping through the pages with our fingers. There’s something down right gospel about it. John 1:14 says that the Word became flesh. It became hot, smelly, sweaty flesh. So when we read a book, we remember the divine condensation that occurred in Bethlehem when the Shepherd became the sheep in order to draw the sheep to the Shepherd. (shameless plug–check out my new book Sex, Sushi, and Salvation )

Last week I gave a lecture at Beeson Divinity School on Celtic Christianity. Few subjects in all of Christian history are as captivating and mysterious as Celtic Spirituality and it’s difficult, if not entirely impossible, to understand the medieval European context without engaging, to some degree, the Celts.

This is the famous Chi Rho page of the Book of Kells that is on display at Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland. This picture is of great interest to me because it highlights the primacy of incarnational theology as it emerges out of the Celtic tradition. While I did not include the entirety of the lecture, I spliced together a short audio clip. Enjoy.


[Download Celtic Christianity Lecture mp3](http://christiangeorge.org/downloads/CelticChristianityShortened.mp3)

After speaking with UFC champion Matt Hughes, I’ve watched every UFC fight and kung fu movie I can get my hands on. From Bruce Lee to Jet Li, I can’t get enough.

I must confess, I’m missing Aikido. Aikido is a martial art that is based on harmony, timing, and leverage. I wrote a bit about it in Sacred Travels, but never went into much detail. After several years of training in Aikido, I had to make a decision. To fight or write. I didn’t have time for both. So I chose to write. But every once in a while I find myself missing the discipline that comes from the dojo. Here’s a clip from my yellow belt test.
christian-george-aikido.mov

I just got off the phone with Matt Hughes, one of the greatest fighters in the Ultimate Fighting Championship. The UFC is a mixed martial art competition that is gaining international popularity. I’m doing an article for Black Belt Magazine on faith and fighting and wanted to talk with Matt about his commitment to God and the church.

Recently on the UFC reality show, Matt passed out copies of the Bible and asked some of the fighters to read the book of Esther. In my conversation with him, I discovered that he is sold out for the Savior and wants others to know the peace that comes from training not only the body, but also the soul. Spiritual conditioning, he mentioned, is just as important as physical conditioning.

I found Matt to be very likable. He’s the kind of guy you could just pull up a chair and start talking to. He’s got a book coming out this January called “Made in America” where he talks about his faith. He never thought God would lead him to the UFC, but he is trying to live out the Christian life and be a witness to others.

It’s so refreshing to see how God is raising up guys and girls who are committed to Christ. Matt is standing up for the truth in a secular and hostile environment. He’s not ashamed of the Gospel, as Paul once said, for it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes (Romans 1:16).

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