I've Moved!

Thanks for stopping by. As of this week, my blog has moved to Beliefnet:

http://blog.beliefnet.com/omeoflittlefaith

or you can use: omeoflittlefaith.com

See you there!

Hello, Beliefnet

On Twitter last week I promised a big announcement for today, and here it is:

Beginning tomorrow, I'm shutting down this blog and moving my entire blogging operation to Beliefnet, where I'll join a host of other writers I've enjoyed reading for a long while, including Scot McKnight, Rod Dreher, and Diana Butler Bass.

My new blog will be called O Me of Little Faith and the official URL is http://blog.beliefnet.com/omeoflittlefaith. If you go there now, you'll see that all my blog archives have been moved over already.

You can also get there via www.omeoflittlefaith.com and, beginning tomorrow, with blog.jasonboyett.com.

So update your bookmarks. I'll update the RSS feed address tomorrow, but this is the new one: http://feeds2.feedburner.com/beliefnet/omeoflittlefaith



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Why am I making this move?

Might as well be honest. It's to increase my readership. Beliefnet offers me a chance to add to my existing platform (to use an obnoxious industry word) and reach new readers. As a writer, this is important to me. The more blog readers I have, the more people who potentially will buy my books. The more books I sell, the more likely it is I can find a home for my next book idea. Increased readership keeps me in business.

That's the only reason?

Pretty much. Why pretend otherwise? The trick is to add readers over there without losing the excellent base of loyal readers I've gained already with this blog. Which is to say: I appreciate you and hope you'll stay with me.

Will anything change?

The look and feel of my new blogging home will definitely be different. The sidebar will be on the right instead of the left, and there won't be as many obnoxious ads for my new book at the new site. Those ads have been replaced with, if you can believe it, ads that are even more obnoxious. Like, they flash and stuff.

Beliefnet's ads are notoriously annoying, and I might as well apologize now for that. They are indeed distasteful and pervasive, and everyone knows it. There are ads for the Mormon Church, for cornball "spiritual" products, for the DVD box set of Touched by an Angel, and ads that say YOU ARE A WINNER. But they keep Beliefnet in business and we'll have to deal with them.

You'll also have to get used to a new commenting system, but I hope, despite the changes, that you'll still be just as involved with my posts there as you have been here.

But you'll be doing the same kind of blogging, right?

Of course. I don't plan to change my content or style at all. My first post tomorrow will be a snarky self-interview. And I'll still do lots of giveaways and 5-sentence writing contests and interviews with interesting people. The subtitle for the new blog is "A Blog on Doubt, Christianity, Culture, and Writing." So pretty much it's the same thing I'm doing already.

I started this blog back in December of 2007. This is post #530 since then. I'm thankful to all of the new friends and readers I've discovered in the process, and hope to see you again tomorrow at Bnet. My first official post there will invite you to introduce yourself in the comments. Please do so.

Thanks for reading. See you at the new O Me of Little Faith.

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By the way, if you were one of the fine folks who got an advance copy of O Me of Little Faith for reviewing on your blog or elsewhere, would you mind also posting a review on Amazon? I'd appreciate it.

Keeping Up Appearances

There's an interesting little factoid in the endnotes section of Superfreakonomics. Which is saying something, because the whole book -- as well as its predecessor, Freakonomics -- is gloriously full of interesting little factoids.

Anyway.

In my childhood church environment, we took the offering by passing a big, shallow, flat plate from person-to-person, row-to-row. People would put their money in. It was all quite visible. People could see how much you donated and you could see what your neighbor put in, too.

Not every church does it that way. An economist named Adriaan Soetevent did an experiment in thirty Dutch churches a few years back. These churches passed a closed bag from person-to-person rather than an open plate. As part of his experiment, however, Soetevent convinced the churches to let him change the way they took the offering. For several months, on random occasions, he would substitute an open collection plate instead of the closed bag.

His theory was that the visibility of the open plate might lead to different donation patterns than the relative privacy of the closed bag.

Soetevent was right. At the end of the experiment, the stats showed that churchgoers gave more money when an open basket or plate was passed. More bills, fewer small coins, increased donations all the way around. You can download the full study here.

I'm not surprised by the results. I think people will always give more when under increased scrutiny. But I'm more interested in the larger conclusion at the base of it: that even in churches, we are so focused on what people think of us that we allow it to dictate our behavior.

On a related note, this Freakonomics blog post mentions the study in the context of answering a fascinating letter from someone who admits to faking Christianity in order to be more accepted among their social group. Wow.

How much of our religiosity is more influenced by our peers than our personal faith?

What would you do differently if you didn't care what people thought of you?

If we're following someone who claimed to be Truth, what benefit is there in faking any aspect of our commitment?

Please discuss.

The Problem with Asking Hard Questions

My friend Matthew Paul Turner posted a review today of O Me of Little Faith, written by his friend Adam Ellis. (Disclaimer: I know Adam, too, having interviewed him for a Daily Beast article last summer.)

In his review, Adam brings up a very good point. Personally, he identifies strongly with the subject of the book. "On one hand," he writes, "[Jason] seems to have unknowingly written this book about me. I am a confirmed doubter."

But on the other hand, "...not everyone is like me. I’ve found that some people aren’t given to such incessant questioning, and that the things that are issues for me aren’t issues for them."

So Adam is stuck with a problem: the book is helpful and encouraging to him, but he realizes that, for people who aren't already doubters, "this book could be devastating."

Devastating because I bring up questions for which I don't always have answers. He's right. In the book, I'm not defending the faith or offering much in the way of resolution. Instead, I'm sharing my journey and asking fellow doubters to share in it, too, because I hope it'll help us return to honesty and community rather than the isolation of spiritual uncertainty.

So if you doubt, this is a book for you. If you don't doubt and would rather not be exposed to some of the questions we ask, this may not be a book for you.

Which leads me to a question I'd like us to discuss: As believers who have questions, when we ask our questions about God out loud, do we run the risk of introducing uncertainty to other believers -- who might have been just fine until we started bringing up all this hard stuff? If we express our doubts, might we unintentionally be causing other believers "to stumble" (to employ a way-overused biblical phrase)?

What is our responsibility in this situation? Or to put it more graphically, is it better to air out our wounds so they can heal? Or by exposing them could we be unleashing a potentially harmful bacteria into the air?

Yuck.

Anyway, I'm working through these questions and would love your take on it. How do doubters achieve a balance between honest questioning, personal transparency, and concern over the spiritual well-being of non-doubters?

Where Do I Go from Here?

One of the questions I get asked pretty frequently -- especially with the release of a new book -- is this one: What are you writing next?

That question comes from fans, family members, agents, editors, and interviewers. Up to this point, I've always had a pretty good answer to that question. But right now, my answer is...

I don't know.

Really. Currently I'm working on a two-book contract for a couple of Pocket Guide-ish children's books about non-religious subjects. They may or may not be released under a pseudonym. (I'm thinking of going with "Stephenie Meyers," because: genius!) Anyway, once these books are complete, I don't know what I'm doing next.

• Another Pocket Guide? Yes, there are plenty of religious/historical subjects that could easily receive the Pocket Guide treatment. Eastern religions. Greek mythology. Mormonism. I have a pretty long list. But after several years of the heavy research involved in writing these books -- and I mean heavy research -- I'm a bit burned out on it. And I wonder how far these books can take me, career-wise. I mean, it worked for Kenneth C. Davis and his Don't Know Much About... series, but so far I haven't been able to add that "New York Times Bestselling Author" tag to my book jackets. Do I keep plugging away on these until they take over the world? I don't know.

• Another memoir? Other than the struggles of trying to write with honesty and vulnerability, drafting O Me of Little Faith wasn't really that difficult, simply because the subject was me and not, say, the afterlife beliefs of ancient Chinese mythology. Being able to just write and tell stories without all the research was pretty liberating. I enjoyed it. Only this book sort of ends up where I am today. What else am I going to write about? If I want to do another memoir, I'm going to have to go do some more living for awhile, and then come back to it. Or I'm going to have to remember some big, exciting chunk of my childhood that has so far eluded me.

• A gimmicky A.J. Jacobs-style immersion book? I've had some folks in the publishing industry ask me to think of an idea in this genre -- like Jacobs' mega-selling The Year of Living Biblically and all the other books his idea has spawned -- but I'm hesitant. It seems fairly derivative at this point, like trying to jump on the coattails of a successful trend. How long with the trend last? Has this nonfiction genre run its course? Why don't I just write a novel about brooding romantic vampires? Which leads to...

• Fiction? Mmmmm...I've been secretly leaning this direction for a couple of years now. Part of me wants to toss away the shackles of research and truth-telling and spiritual insight in order to just sit down at my computer and tell a really cool story. Right now I'm reading a lot of children's and young adult fiction, because that's what my kids read. I love this genre and have always harbored dreams of being a novelist. (Ask me about the Jason Bourne-as-pacifist-shepherd novel I wrote the year after graduating from college.) But writing fiction would be like starting over in the publishing industry. Any success or platform I've built with Pocket Guides or religious books doesn't exactly transfer over to YA fiction. But the freedom and creativity? It's tempting, so tempting...

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What do you think? You guys are (hopefully) familiar my career path up to this point, so what should I do next? I'm asking this in all seriousness because you're smart and thoughtful and I value your insight. Also because I'm hoping you'll give me some good ideas for a novel.

Please share.

Friday Housekeeping

I returned last night from a great week in New York City where I had the privilege of speaking to the communities at Apostles Church (Tuesday) and Marble Collegiate (Wednesday) about faith, doubt, and living with both. Thanks to the leaders of both churches for the invitation, the shared meals, the great conversation, and the new friendships.

Now, for some housekeeping:

Congrats to Jarrod Haggard for leaving a comment and being the random winner of Monday's contest. Two free copies of O Me of Little Faith are headed your way!

And congrats to Jessica for leaving a comment and being the random winner of Tuesday's contest. One free copy of the book is yours...

If you'll both email me with your shipping addresses, I'll make sure your copies get in the mail soon.

More stuff to read until new content gets posted next week:

+ A Church Marketing Sucks interview with me about doubt, faith, marketing, and tanks.

+ A fun "Wordless Wednesday" contest at Soul Munchies in which you can win a free copy of OMOLF.

+ A review by the "J" at PJs til Noon.

+ Jen at Divinest Sense reviews the book and interviews me.

+ Interviewed by Janet O about O Me of Little Faith and our shared fondness for running.

+ Lauren Sawyer with a review and some commentary about OMOLF.

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See you on Monday, and have a great weekend.

18 True Confessions About My True Confessions

I have posted real-life confessions in the past on this blog. Actually, several times. But you'd be surprised. I'm not some serial confessor in real life -- I don't just start admitting to things in face-to-face situations -- but when I'm typing this stuff just comes out. Something is wrong with me.

So because this is the official release week for O Me of Little Faith: True Confessions of a Spiritual Weakling, I figured that I should celebrate with another round of confessions (mostly) related to the contents of the book.

Here they are:

1. Some people have spoken or written about OMOLF as if, finally, I had written a real book. Oh. Thanks. I'm not sure how to take this backhanded whatever-it-is, because let me tell you: the Pocket Guides were WAY harder to write and research than this one. I get a little defensive.

2. In some ways, OMOLF feels like my first real book.

3. In certain other ways, OMOLF sounds like a dirty acronym.

4. In chapter 5 ("Reverse Bricklaying"), I tell a story that only three people in the world knew about. Literally. And one of them is my wife. That's the most vulnerable I've felt in print. Even more vulnerable than the start of the book when I admit that, on some days, I'm not sure I believe in God.

5. I love footnotes, because I think they have the potential to insert a lot of humor into the book without getting in the way of the content or narrative flow. My favorite footnote is #11 in chapter 2. The one about the preferred spelling of Occam's Razor. If my arms were long enough, I would still be patting myself on the back for that one.

6. How to tell if you're a history/theology nerd: you are unreasonably proud of a joke you made about Occam's Razor. For crying out loud.

7. In the 8th grade, I once killed a hobo on a dare.

8. Chapter 6 is titled "Insanity at 900 Feet." This is in reference to an illustration that opens the chapter. It's related to a thrill ride atop the Stratosphere in Las Vegas, and introduces some thoughts about context and doubt. But in the first draft, the chapter was titled "Ravaging the Fetal Pig" and opened with a completely different story about when I had to dissect a fetal pig in biology class. It's a horrible little anecdote, and a couple of my early readers told me that the story wasn't necessary. It wasn't adding anything to the chapter, and it was mostly kind of disgusting. I realized that I probably wanted to tell that story simply because I liked the phrase "Ravaging the Fetal Pig" and thought it would make a provocative chapter title. So I wedged it into my book outline. How dumb. After a lot of deliberation, I scrapped the pig metaphor completely, replaced it with the Insanity one, and retitled the chapter. This was a very good decision.

9. No, I won't tell you the fetal pig story.

10. Number 7 is a lie, just in case my friends in law enforcement are reading this.

11. Number 7 is also a theft, but one made in honor of my friend Shuey.

12. On p. 83, in a jokey footnote, I connected atheists with Satanists in a thoughtless and unfortunate way. This was a poor decision, and friendly atheist (and OMOLF endorser) Hemant Mehta called me on it. He's right. Not a good joke, and definitely a regrettable juxtaposition. I should show more respect to atheists than that, and I am totally serious.

13. There are religious people who will think I'm an idiot for the apology I just made in #12 because who cares if atheists get offended anyway? You know what? I care. I confess to having a bad attitude about the kinds of religious people who would say that.

14. When I talk to other writers about how to use blogs and social media to build an audience, I always tell them that they can't only use it to promote themselves and their books all the time. They have to balance it out with thoughtful content and meaningful interaction and generosity toward others. Without this balance, it's like being the guy at the cocktail party who wont stop talking about himself or his business, and no one wants to hang around that guy any longer than necessary. Yet in the weeks surrounding a book release -- like these last few days -- I feel like a total hypocrite, because I am recklessly ignoring my own rules and shilling all the live long day for my own book. I'm one of those sketchy kids selling magazines door-to-door so they can win a trip. Quit bothering me, kid.

15. It didn't occur to me until the second draft of the book that my middle name, Thomas, was the same name as the Bible's most famous doubter. Duh. My brother reminded me, so I worked it into the first chapter. How did I miss that?

16. My editor and I both worried that the long section on Zoroastrianism (and its relationship to the Christian doctrine of hell) that ends chapter 6 was too theologically and historically dense and might be a turn-off to casual readers. But we couldn't figure out a way to get through that stuff more succinctly. So we just left it in. I'm glad we did -- all that "evolution of hell" stuff remains a major stumbling block for my faith -- but I still worry about how much real estate it takes up in the book.

17. I was weirdly enthused that I found a way in OMOLF to mention Mictlantecuhtli, the skeletal ruler of the Aztec underworld (p. 145). I love his name. In fact, I may try to insert his name into all my books from now on, like how Alfred Hitchcock made a winking cameo appearance in most of his films. Only instead of inserting myself into the narrative, I'll insert a blood-spattered death deity who wears a necklace made out of human eyeballs.

18. I have no right to compare myself to Alfred Hitchcock. Forgive me.

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Now it's your turn. Confess your own sins, failures, and annoying hang-ups in the comments. I'll randomly select one commenter to receive a free copy of O Me of Little Faith.

OMOLF Introduction, with Commentary

It's release week for O Me of Little Faith. I hope you haven't gotten tired of my constant book-promoting over the last couple of week -- it can be indelicate, but it's sort of my job. Occasionally I need to hijack the public service ethos of blogging in order to convince you to buy my book.

And, apparently, I see my blogging as a "public service," so what kind of raging egomaniac am I? Good gravy. Stop typing, Jason.

Anyway, today I'm publishing the first few paragraphs of O Me of Little Faith, right here on the blog. But I'm going to do so with my own personal commentary inserted between paragraphs. It's like the director's commentary on a DVD, but way more distracting.

This might be a horrible experiment, but I'm knee-deep in it now so here goes. The actual words of the book are in italics.

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I am a Christian. I have been a Christian for most of my life. But there are times—a growing number of times, to be honest—when I’m not entirely sure I believe in God.

There. I said it.

>>>What I'm trying to do here is hook you from the beginning with a startling revelation. I want you to read this at Barnes & Noble, then show it to your buddy, and say "Dude, this Christian guy totally just said he didn't believe in God! Astounding! We must buy bulk quantities of this book for all of our friends, like we did with The Shack!"

So now you know, and we can both relax and talk about it. Confessing the presence of spiritual uncertainty in my life is a relief. I can breathe easier now because I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to hide my conflicted feelings when we talk about Jesus and the Bible. I don’t have to feel like a jerk if you, or anyone else, look to me as some kind of spiritual expert or teacher. I don’t have to tiptoe around the word most of us hesitate to use in church or around Christian friends because it freaks us out so much.

Doubt.

>>>Yes. Doubt. Have you noticed that I way overuse the paragraph-comprised-of-a-single-word-or-sentence trick? It's like a lazy, cheater's shortcut to emphasize something. But occasionally it's effective.

Like in the example above.

(Dang. I just did it again.)

Now that it’s out in the open, I can strip off my happy Christian mask, climb down from whatever pedestal I’ve hoisted myself upon, and be who I really am: a committed follower of Jesus who occasionally finds himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, we’ve made this whole thing up.

>>>I really struggled with this phrasing: "we've made this whole thing up." It seems so...harsh and negative and blunt. But it's honest, and I decided to side with honesty whenever possible during the writing process.

Let’s back up for a minute, though, because there will be plenty of room in this book for me to talk about myself. What I want to discuss here, at the beginning, is you. Let’s talk about what’s going through your head right now. I have a feeling you might be thinking one of two things. The first is this: He’s not sure he believes in God? The last thing I need to read is the navel gazing of some self-absorbed, relativistic, weak-minded writer who struggles with faith. If you have so much trouble believing in God, dude, why don’t you quit writing books and start reading the Word? (You might start with James 1:6. ) Pray or something, but quit blabbing about it. It’s bad enough that you’re questioning your own faith. Don’t pull us down with you!

>>>This is me covering my butt. Because I totally know people who would say that to me, and I need them to know that I know that's what they think. This is also me preparing myself for the one-star Amazon reviews I figure will eventually show up.

Is that your response? If so, that’s fine. Don’t worry about it, because it’s not unexpected, and I totally forgive you for calling me “weak-minded.” Also, I admit to being “a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind,” as James so colorfully puts it. I’m not especially proud of being a doubter—like treading water in the ocean during a tropical storm, it can be exhausting, uncomfortable, and fairly dangerous—but I’m not going to pretend that it doesn’t have some redeeming qualities.

>>>My first real metaphor, this "treading water" thing. It's creative, I guess, but I'm not sure it's necessary. Might be too cute. I wrote this chapter in the late summer of 2007, so I'm pretty sure it was around the time Tropical Storm Erin hit the Texas coast. I would not be surprised at all if that event led to this particular metaphor.

Nor am I going to get defensive. You’re a little mean, perhaps, but not entirely wrong in wanting me to shut up so I don’t mess up the current quality of your belief. I don’t want to do that. So if you are rock-steady in your faith and have no interest in reading a book about doubt, then by all means, put this one down. Put it back on the shelf. Walk away slowly and enjoy your blessings. Firm faith is a gift. I’m happy for you—I wish I could be you.

>>>Two pages into the book and I'm telling people not to read my book. Brilliant.

But I’m not. Which brings us to a second potential reaction to my doubter’s confession. It’s one of recognition and relief: I completely understand about the doubt thing. What you’re going through? Same here. I have doubts, too. Big ones. I try to ignore them, I try to fight against them, and I try to pray for more faith. But no matter what books I read or what sermons I hear, I can’t get rid of these doubts.

If you identify with me, keep reading. Maybe we’re on the same road and we can walk together. It’s not the straight, easy road to faith. It’s no smooth interstate highway with well-lit rest stops and clean restrooms and lots of gas stations. It’s not always purpose-driven. It’s not the road where the driving comes with a great soundtrack—a crisp satellite radio connection to the Almighty.

>>>Here comes another metaphor: the oft-used road metaphor! Not at all original, though I definitely like the "purpose-driven" line. What bothers me, though, is the way I'm mixing up the metaphor. I've just noticed this. It starts with us walking together...but we're on an interstate highway? So are we hitchhikers or what? Oh, wait, now we're driving. With a soundtrack. But driving! Man.

Nope, ours is the doubter’s road. It’s a winding, weird back road that never seems to get anywhere fast. This road is poorly lit, cratered with potholes, and far from flat. Every once in awhile it steers up into the mountains, where the air is fresh and the views are spectacular. But mostly it unwinds its graveled way through valleys, across deserts, and past sketchy small towns. The soundtrack of God’s voice crackles on the AM band through speakers that have had better days.

>>>I like the comparison between the certainty of hearing God's voice as a crisp satellite radio connection and the uncertainty of straining to hear it crackling on the AM band through ancient speakers. I totally feel that way, especially around the super-spiritual folks who talk as if God is giving them instructions directly into their ears using heavenly comm units, like Chloe does to Jack Bauer. If God's giving me those kinds of messages, I must have misread the protocols and ended up on the wrong channel. Because I can't hear Chloe at all. So frustrating.

Wait, now I've lapsed into a "24" metaphor. I think I have a real problem. Is there a word for metaphor addiction?

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This has been a long post. Thanks for reading this far.

O Me of Little Faith (without commentary) is available online at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Christianbook.com, and at bookstores near you. If you want a Kindle or audio download, those are available, too.

If you were one of the nice people who volunteered to participate in the blog tour, now's the time to post your review to Amazon and to your social media circles.

And now for a giveaway. Here's the deal: I want you to go tell a friend -- a specific person -- about my book, via email, Twitter, Facebook, text, or in person. Then, I want you to come back here and leave a comment telling me the first name of the person you told. Then I will choose a random commenter from today's post and give them two free books. One for you and one for your friend.

Deal?

(No, I can't prove at all that you've actually told someone and have therefore qualified for the giveaway. I'm just going to have to trust you.)

Noah's Ark Found! Robert Cargill Debunks!

Back in 2007, I had the pleasure of spending a day out in the California desert shooting footage for a potential cable TV project that didn't ever work out. Long story. But it was about archaeology, and the producers brought in a real-live archaeologist to play an archaeologist in the shoot.

His name was Robert Cargill, Ph.D. He's a man of both faith and science and has some serious credentials. Dr. Cargill has a seminary degree, has taught Hebrew Bible and New Testament courses at Pepperdine, once worked for Nicole Kidman as her personal history and religion tutor (a crazy story, btw), earned his Ph.D. from UCLA with a focus on Second Temple period archaeology and biblical studies.

Oh, and his dissertation focused on Qumran remains, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered. He's been working as a dig-in-the-dirt archaeologist for the last decade, but he does more than that: Dr. Cargill also serves as Chief Architect and Designer of the Qumran Visualization Project, a real-time virtual reconstruction of the site of Qumran.

He is way smarter than me. And if you watch closely, he shows up on a lot of History Channel and Discovery Channel shows debunking aliens and talking about the Bible. Sometimes in the same documentary!

So when all the media outlets exploded this week with the announcement that an Evangelical group called Noah's Ark Ministries International had discovered Noah's Ark up on Mt. Ararat, I found myself wondering what Bob thought. So I asked him.

Here's what he said:

JB: The ark hunters said they are 99.9% certain that the wood they found in Turkey is Noah's Ark. That number surprises me. It seems a little too certain for a science like archaeology. What do you make of this claim?

Dr. Robert Cargill: Consider me to be part of the .1%. Not only is this a sensational claim with very little credible evidence, it now appears to be a hoax. As a rule of thumb, anytime you hear 99.9%, it's not scientific. In this case, it's sheer sensational falsehood.

So let's discuss the now-public suggestion that it's a hoax. That's what Dr. Randall Price told the Christian Science Monitor. Price is an evangelical archaeologist and a former member of the team that found the "ark." Would serious archaeologists really be fooled by planted evidence?

Sure. A good hoax or salted (planted) evidence can fool some scholars. And of course, every single legitimate find always has a few scholars claiming it's a forgery, often times because it doesn't fit with their earlier claims. But while some scholars can be fooled, this is not one of those cases. The fact that this is part of a marketing campaign and bypassed scholarship altogether raises the red flag of suspicion.

From your perspective, what's the big deal about archaeologists trying to find Noah's Ark? Why the fascination?

Three reasons: One, the flood is one of the biblical stories that just about everyone has heard, even the non-religious. Thus, if you can find Noah's Ark, then there must have been a flood, and if there was a flood, then the Bible is historical and true, and if the Bible is historical and true, then why don't you accept it?

Second, the creation stories and the flood stories are stories that have zero archaeological and scientific evidence to support them, and all kinds of evidence that contradict them. Thus, they are the least likely to be historical, and are therefore under the greatest 'attack', at least according to Evangelicals. Thus, many feel they must defend these stories vigorously.

Finally, because the story of Noah's Ark is so well known, and because so many want to believe them despite the evidence to the contrary, it is easy to raise money for these expeditions. The pitch is simple: "You want people to believe the Bible, don't you? Well, if we find the Ark, the world will have to believe." So, in order to show their faith, people give to Ark expeditions in the hopes that they contribute to something big. All they end up doing is funding free trips to Turkey for the group of tourists that make up the 'expedition.' They get to be honorable citizens and stay in fine hotels and all the while believe they are demonstrating their faith. After enjoying a luxurious trip abroad, they use the rest of the money to fund their various ministries. And since they never find anything, they keep coming back for more donations with the plea, "But we're soooo close." In that sense, it's a scam.

What about you personally? Do you have any interest in finding archaeological proof of biblical events? Is there anything to be gained by it?

There is plenty of archaeological evidence that corroborates claims made in the Bible. We begin seeing a few of these in the 10th century BCE, but really nothing before that: no Patriarchs, no Creation, no Exodus (so-called 'evidence' for various Exoduses are all hoaxes as well). Not until the settlement in Canaan do we begin to see evidence of biblical claims. (We also find evidence that contradicts some of the claims made in the Bible.)

We have evidence of construction on the Temple in Jerusalem, the build up of cities like Megiddo and Lachish and Dan, evidence of a preparation in defense of an Assyrian attack on Jerusalem (2 Kings 18), evidence for an exile to Babylon, etc. Likewise, there is evidence of New Testament claims.

It is important to remember, however, that real archaeologists don't go 'looking for something.' We dig. We dig and we find what we find. Wherever the evidence leads us, we go. Whatever the evidence says, we report. We don't go looking to 'prove the Bible.' This is flawed methodology, because you begin seeing what you want to see or hope to see, and not what's really there.

Is there anything else the average Christian needs to know about this story?

It's a hoax. We'll never find Noah's Ark, the Ark of the Covenant, etc., not only because they may not be historical, but because the ancients were far better recyclers than we are. My Prius and I are no match for ancient recyclers, who would have torn or melted down and reused anything of value, especially wood and gold. Don't base your faith on relics.

And don't base your faith on the historicity of pre-scientific attempts to explain why things are the way they are. These are not scientific stories, they were attempts to convey thoughts about God and his activity in this world. Believe the biblical stories or don't, but remember that just as Jesus told parables that he often made up in order to communicate a moral point, so too did the early biblical authors. (I mean, had Jesus really seen a man get robbed on the road to Jericho, don't you think he, Jesus, would have helped?)

It's a story that conveys an ethical principle. So are the flood stories in Genesis 6-9 and the creation stories in Genesis 1 and 2. One should base one's faith on how they are to treat others, and not on ancient attempts to explain the origin of rainbows.

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Thanks for the insight and expertise, Dr. Cargill. For a more in-depth rant on the whole Noah's Ark find and some helpful links, check out this Ark-debunking post on Robert Cargill's personal blog. Then follow him on twitter if you'd like.

Question: Frustrations with the Faithful

A have a favor to ask you on behalf of a friend of mine. He's working on a project and has been soliciting answers from both believers and non-believers to the following question:

What do other Christians do or say that frustrates you?

I thought we might be able to generate some thought-provoking answers to that question, which I end up addressing more than once in the new book.

For instance, one time I overheard a well-meaning Christian say, "It's totally a God thing that my flight got canceled, because I got to share my faith with the lady next to me. Talk about a divine appointment!"

That kind of over-spiritualization of chance occurrences really frustrates me, because it's so narcissistic. Yes, Christians place a high value on the salvation of a single soul. But do you really want to infer that God whipped up a thunderstorm at DFW, piled stress on airline employees, and inconvenienced hundreds of travelers just to engineer a single (eternally significant) conversation? Really?

I can't go there. If my flight gets canceled, I'm hesitant to assume a master evangelistic plan. I'd much rather chalk it up to a backlog of delayed flights due to a major storm somewhere. That's not a God thing. It's just common sense. The alternative -- delighting in it for self-centered evangelistic purposes, without giving a thought to the countless other people who just want to get home in time to say goodnight to their kids -- is pretty unattractive.

Anyway, there's an example.

Please note: the aim here isn't to pile on to Christians for the stuff we all do. Think of it as constructive criticism. What are the things we Christians do or say that might seem harmless to us, but could be annoying or frustrating from another perspective?

Got it?

Comment away.

Options and Doubt

Why do we doubt? In my new book, I discuss several of the causes of spiritual doubt, including sin, guilt, depression, circumstances, familiarity/boredom, and intellectual challenges.

But there's one doubt-generator I've been thinking of lately that's not in the book: options. I had the privilege of hearing Daniel Taylor mention this idea briefly a couple weeks ago at the Festival of Faith & Writing.

Let's say you're out shopping for a car. And let's say it's 1908. And let's also say you're a middle-class American. So if it's 1908 and you're looking to buy an affordable car in the United States, you pretty much have one option: the Ford Model-T. If you know anyone else who owns a car, they also drive a Model-T. Except for a few really rich guys with novelty German vehicles, all the cars on the road came off Henry Ford's assembly line. And all of the Model-Ts are black.

If you wanted a car, you'd buy it and no one would think anything of it. Your only choice is whether or not to buy a car. That's it.

Compare that to today. In 2010, there are countless makes and models of cars on the road. Any color you want. New cars. Used cars. Hybrids. Trucks. SUVs. Hatchbacks. Sedans. We have options. So any time we make a decision to buy a certain car, we're bound to experience a twinge of doubt as soon as we make the decision. We call it "buyer's remorse."

Did I make the right choice? Should I have gone with better fuel economy? Is this one as reliable as that other one? Is the red paint job too flashy? Will we be OK with 10 cupholders or should we get the one with 14?

We have too many car-buying options, and options lead to doubt.

Now let's step away from the Model-T metaphor, because this is not a blog post about cars. Consider the world we're living in now. When it comes to spirituality and religion, we have options. Thousands of options. The planet is more connected than ever, and this global inter-connectedness has made the world smaller. We're exposed to far more cultures, spiritual traditions, and religious viewpoints than ever before. Anti-religious or non-religious viewpoints are gaining traction, too.

Even more, we have all these groundbreaking advances in medicine, genetics, and science to deal with. And we have to deal with them, because they are starting to explain things that, until now, we just didn't understand. Stuff we used to label Religious, or Mystery, or Divine. (Example: Persinger's "God helmet")

And even more, we're seeing a bunch of global religious upheaval because of the Church's failures -- abuse scandals and sex scandals and political scandals and big human screw-ups.

Today's religious climate is filled with options and the result is doubt. We might all be suffering from a little buyer's remorse -- with all these options, have I made the right choice? -- and this leads to uncertainty.

So we're living in a time when, if you're human and you're paying attention, you're going to run into some questions. Big questions. Scary questions. The problem is that some of us are encountering these questions in an environment that gets really suspicious when you ask hard questions. Those suspicions can turn doubters really lonely people, because it's easier just to be quiet. It's easier to not make waves. It's easier to just shove the questions down inside and pretend they don't exist. It's easier to act like you have it all together.

It's easier to lie.

But it's not healthy. We've got to find a way to talk about these questions without fear and without having to hide. Doubters need encouragement to work through their questions without judgment. We need the freedom to think critically and use the rational minds we've been given. We need to know it's possible to remain a practicing Christian without being paralyzed by doubt.

We have to remember that doubt can deepen faith. It doesn't have to derail it, just like it doesn't have to devolve into bitter cynicism. Faith and doubt can co-exist. They work side-by-side. Because faith only exists when doubt is present. Otherwise it's not "faith." It's certainty.

In a world full of religious options, we have to make the church a safe place for doubters. If we don't, eventually, our churches will be full of pretenders.

Or they'll be empty.

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• Here's a new O Me of Little Faith interview at Popcropolis. It may or may not mention a stack of yeti.

• Fellow doubt-writer Rachel Held Evans reviews O Me of Little Faith, and admits to being afraid we wrote the same book. But good news! We didn't.

• Crystal at Soul Munchies has posted a very generous review and will be giving away two copies of the book tomorrow.

Winner! 5-Sentence Scary Story (Ash)

Yikes. These scary contests are getting more and more disturbing every time. Splattered brain matter, rotting body cavities, burning corpses, hemorrhoid cream...I'm going to have to put a parental advisory on these things.

Still: Well done. Some great stuff here. Let's start with a few of the honorable mentions.

Best "Mr. Shifty" Usage
Jeremy, whose "Mr. Shifty" wasn't a goat or a person, but rather a house. A scary house with a blood-red roof.

Second-Best "Mr. Shifty" Usage and Best Allusion to International Genetic Milestones
Kit Palmer, whose story referenced a certain "Dr. Shiftowitz" and Dollie the cloned sheep.

Best Celebrity Shout-Out
Jacob, who found a way to work Ryan Seacrest into his story.

Best Closing Lines That Also Could Have Been the Caption of a "Far Side" Cartoon
Maria D.'s tightly constructed story that ended with this gem: The goats had won. For now.

Most Offensive Naming Convention
Bryan Allain, for naming a dog "Boyett."

Best Biblical Tie-In
Bob from Chicago, who wrapped up the whole conceit into the Abraham/Isaac story.

Most Creative Storytelling Method
Kyle Davis, who kept within the 5-sentence limit by telling the first three sentences of the story and the last two sentences of the story... while leaving a lot of mysterious plot unsaid.

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But I had no trouble choosing the winner of this one. It's Shawn Smucker. Shawn's submission was economical, beautifully descriptive, contained an impressive amount of action, and ended with a chilling surprise: the subtle shift of a vehicle.

Oooh. So good. Shawn's a professional writer, and proves it with this story.

The occasional passing volcanic ash cloud always killed a few of the strays, but Bryan had never thought of using one of them to lure that nightmare from the barn. He drug the straggler by the horn and left it lying in the middle of the deserted lane, then jogged back to the pick up truck where he had been living for a month: it was out of gas, but the rifle under the seat still had one more shining bullet. He knew he was running a serious risk by staying in the truck after dusk, but he couldn’t stand one more night in the trees, and “Mr. Shifty” gravitated to dead flesh first. As the filtered sunlight began to fade, and specks of snow drifted aimlessly through the gathering dark, Bryan lifted the rifle and looked through the scope, the x trained on the slowly opening barn door. But when the door swung wide, nothing was there, and Bryan felt the subtlest shift as someone, or something, stepped up into the bed of the pick-up truck and approached him from behind.

"...using one of them to lure that nightmare from the barn" is a killer line.

Shawn, email me your shipping address and I'll get a free copy of O Me of Little Faith headed your way.

Thanks, everyone, for your submissions! If you didn't win, keep reading. There are more of these coming in the future.

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And for what it's worth, here's where I found the photo, including its real-life caption.

Five-Sentence Scary Story Contest: Ash

As promised, it's time for yet another five-sentence scary story contest. This time, you have an entire weekend to submit your story in the comments.

For inspiration, here are the links to the previous 5-sentence contests:
• The one with snow
• The one with a shark
• The romantic one
• The very first one

First, please take a look at this recent photo:



Now, for the rules.

This is a Five-Sentence Scary Story Contest. Your job is to come up with a creative and frightening story inspired by this photo (please submit your story via comment), while adhering to the following five rules:

Rule #1: It doesn't have to have anything to do with the actual real-life subject/explanation of the photo.

Rule #2: It has to involve a character nicknamed "Mr. Shifty." There is nothing significant behind the name "Mr. Shifty." I thought of it, it made me laugh, and I want to see how you turn something that makes me laugh into something foreboding.

Rule #3: Somewhere, your story must contain this phrase: volcanic ash cloud.

Rule #4: Your story must contain five sentences. No more. No less. However, there are no rules dictating the length of your sentences

Rule #5: Your story must be frightening, moody, mysterious, or otherwise scary in tone.

The winner gets a free copy of O Me of Little Faith. I will determine the winner based on a highly subjective formula that considers creativity, style, adherence to the rules, and the relative awesomeness of your story in comparison to other submissions.

The contest will last until 9 am central time on Monday, April 26, at which point I'll choose my favorite five-sentence submission. To get things started, my own submission is below. (Don't worry, though. Despite my raging ego, I probably won't choose myself as the winner. Though the shipping costs would be much less expensive that way.)

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Gerald coughed, gagged, and then stumbled in the rancid mud. The volcanic ash cloud had swallowed the horizon now, a black devouring nothingness that brought him to his ancient knees. Greasy fingers against his neck woke him from his stupor, and suddenly there was young Mr. Shifty, the farmer, dragging him through the muck toward the Dark Place. Not the barn, Gerald thought, his wool trembling in the premature twilight. Please, God, not the barn.

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Your turn. Go!

Earth Day Apologies

A brief confession: I'm knee deep in blog interviews for book promotion. Which are a lot of fun, and completely my own doing, and something for which I am nothing but grateful. But they require a lot of writing, which is preventing from concocting any meaningful blog posts today. My apologies for that. But just you wait until tomorrow!

In the meantime, here are three things to keep you busy:

1. Pastor David Kenney posted a thoughtful (and pastoral) review of O Me of Little Faith. Thank you for the kind words, David.

2. For the last couple of years I've recycled a blog post on Earth Day. (Recycled! Yes!) I'm not going to re-post it today, but you can read the original from 2008 here.

3. Tomorrow we return to the much-beloved 5-sentence scary story contest. Which I LOVE. Look for a weird photo to be posted in the morning, along with a few random rules. Get your creativity flowing. You'll have all weekend to enter. The winner gets a free copy of O Me of Little Faith.

Nine Things I Learned at FFW

I know yesterday's post already mentioned my trip to Grand Rapids for the Festival of Faith & Writing, but I want to get one more post out while the experience is still fresh. Being around other writers (published and unpublished), editors, and agents is definitely inspiring, and it's something I hope to do again.

For those who didn't make it there, here are nine memorable things I'll take away from the festival.

1. Eugene Peterson eats yogurt for breakfast.

2. Writers -- both published and unpublished -- are desperate for tips about blogging, Twitter, Facebook, and anything else social media-related. Everyone knows they need to do it in the name of "building a platform." But no one knows how. Including me. In panel discussions and private conversations, I presented myself as a social media "expert," but the truth is that I'm just making this stuff up as I go along.

3. Super-agent Greg Daniel looks very intimidating in his Twitter profile photo, but he's actually very friendly.

4. Based on my interactions with Zondervan staff, they only employ gracious, friendly, and super-cool people.

5. It is possible to write honestly about a religious upbringing you have ultimately rejected, while still honoring your friends and family members who maintain those beliefs. Thank you, Michael Perry, for illustrating this so brilliantly.

6. Sarah Cunningham and Rachel Held Evans are as cool in person as they come across in my previous blog interviews with them.

7. The best writing gets polished and polished and polished on the surface level. And all that polishing eventually allows the "fist of truth" to break through with a powerful uppercut from deep beneath the surface. (Thanks, Kate DiCamillo, for the memorable analogy.)

8. How awesome is Eugene Freaking Peterson? I gasped out loud when he finished his talk. That is not something I do very often.

9. No writer, despite his or her level of success, is completely satisfied. I had a conversation with a friend of a memoirist I admire. Let's call this memoirist Author A. The friend of Author A mentioned how frustrated Author A is that her memoir -- a quirky but exceptionally inspiring story about faith -- hasn't gotten the same attention as another memoir by Author B, whose equally quirky and inspiring memoir became a mega-bestseller. And here I am, listening to this conversation, knowing that I would be ABSOLUTELY THRILLED to have the sales and attention that Author A has received for her work. Yes -- the frustrated, envious Author A.

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• Ken Grant blogs a review of O Me of Little Faith followed by an interview with yours truly.