The Mockingcast

David addresses the crowd on Saturday morning, October 28th, 2017, at our "500 Years of Grace" event All Saints Episcopal Church in Chevy Chase, MD.

Daryl addresses the crowd on Saturday morning, October 28th, 2017, at our "500 Years of Grace" event All Saints Episcopal Church in Chevy Chase, MD. (www.daryldavis.com)

Sarah addresses the crowd on Saturday morning, October 28th, 2017, at our "500 Years of Grace" event All Saints Episcopal Church in Chevy Chase, MD.

Jacob addresses the crowd on Saturday morning, October 28th, 2017, at our "500 Years of Grace" event All Saints Episcopal Church in Chevy Chase, MD.

Adam opens the second day (October 28, 2017) of our "500 Years of Grace" event All Saints Episcopal Church in Chevy Chase, MD.

Nick opens Mockingbird's "500 Years of Grace" Event in DC.

Drew discusses how Christ keeps our feet moving.

Most people will recognize Stephen King’s It as the one about the killer clown. Which it is. But at 1100 pages, it has to be more than that, you know? In his dedication King writes: “Fiction is the truth inside the lie”—which, I’ll admit, I still don’t fully get—but that’s nevertheless a good place to begin investigating one of It’s running themes: extracting the truth from the lies, particularly the ones we tell ourselves. Centered around a group of raggle-taggle tweens, It is a story about growing up and facing fears, about selectively remembering (and discarding) our early painful memories. What the characters develop, as their first line of defense against the killer clown in question, is an elaborate but ultimately fragile method of narrative construction that carries them into adulthood: Mike Hanlon, one of the story’s protagonists, explains, “We lie best when we lie to ourselves.” It’s true for all of us. With the recent deluge of social studies concerning #confirmationbias, and with the self-righteousness of American politics cropping up wherever we look—not to mention moral dispatches from Starbucks cups—there’s never been a better time to take a second glance at the stories we tell ourselves. If spun right, “taking control of your narrative” can sound just as liberating as “taking a trip to Aruba”; but the late David Carr, in his memoir, The Night of the Gun, illustrates the exhausting side of this self-embossed coin: “You spread versions of yourself around, giving each person the truth he or she needs—you need, actually—to keep them at one remove.” So let’s get all our narratives in one place and talk about them, Friday, April 28, 3:30PM, at the 10th Annual Mockingbird Conference. We’ll discuss some of the best stories told by liars and madmen, including some by me and some by you. And—of course—we’ll talk about the great, final page-turner that illuminates the truth about us and pulls us into it, not as tragic heroes but as pardoned villains.

At last year’s NY Conference we mined deep, but there’s a ton more to share. In this breakout, we will continue to explore the world of obscure Christian funk and electronic music from yesteryear. We will learn about why early Christian hip-hop floundered so after its inception (hint: the reason is theological). And we’ll remember how radical it is to introduce a Moog into your worship band, in 1974 (!!). Then there’s Mr. T’s song about the Ten Commandments. Are you wondering what happened to Jimmy Mamou when he read the Bible in Hawaii? What about the nu-wave album that Gary Numan’s favorite guitarist made about the Holy Ghost? Or what Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s poetry sounds like when read aloud over a funky, clavinet-heavy groove? (note: Germany will be making a strong showing this year). I can’t wait to share it all with you… Praise the Lord!

The time for the most wondrous conference – the Mockingbird NYC spring conference – has rolled around again, and the powers-that-be have condescended to let me come and do a breakout session! I’m going to talk about a book I’ve been writing for 3 years now called “The Word of the Cross.” I’m very excited about this material! The Cross is our Solution? The Corinthian church was a mess. There were divisions and theological quarrels and pride about obscure knowledge. Gross sexual sins were being tolerated. Church members were suing one another. There was idolatry, overeating at potlucks, and a carnal fascination with spiritual gifts. If anyone ever talks about the early church as a model of success, they certainly don’t mean this particular early church. Paul wades into this familiar-sounding morass of fleshliness and spiritual immaturity with a very unlikely message: For I determined to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and Him crucified (1 Cor 1:18-2:5) For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, 4 and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures (1 Cor 15:3-4) Paul considered the cross of Christ to be so important and central to this mess of a church that he began and ended his letter to them with it. In fact, he was determined to know nothing else among them, and he delivered it to them as of first importance. The question is, how does the cross of Christ speak to these terrible (if all too familiar) problems? Is it possible that the cross of Christ, far from being some obscure point of doctrine or the subject of strange and dusty old hymns, is in fact the power of God which holds the key to addressing the very real carnality and fleshliness in the church? The Word Made Flesh is a Crucified Word In the first chapter of the book of John, we learn that the “Word” which was in the beginning was with God, and was God. If Jesus Christ is the very word of God made flesh, then what is He saying to us? He didn’t just speak God’s words — He actually is God’s word. What is the message of this word of flesh and bone and blood? Of all the things He taught, there was no greater word than the cross. You can be certain that every word that Jesus spoke and every action He took was done in light of His crucifixion. When He rose from the dead, He was not raised as a completely healed man as if newborn. He retained the scars. His crucifixion has become an essential part of His identity. This preserved evidence of crucifixion was proof to the disciples of His identity, that the risen Savior is the the Savior who has suffered. He describes Himself to John in the vision as the One who was dead, who is alive forevermore (Rev 1:18). It is the Lamb standing, as if slain, who is worthy apart from all creatures, to open the scroll in the Father’s right hand (Rev 5:6). He is worthy because He was slain, and purchased men for God with His blood. (Rev 5:9). He is known as a slain lamb, and His worthiness is that He was slain. All of heaven understands the centrality of the cross of Christ. An Infinite Well of Atonement Theories There seems to be some controversy in some circles about whether this atonement theory or that atonement theory of the cross is true. I have come to think that not only are almost all of these theories true, but they are not even exclusive. The cross is speaking virtually everything that God ever wants to say to us at once – so many important and beautiful things! Far from being exclusive, these words of the cross are like the bones and sinew and organs and nerves which together make up a human body. They are like the many facets of a single exquisite diamond. They are like many rivers which come together to fill up the ocean. The cross speaks a powerful word of crushing law while at the same time it speaks a liberating word of lavish grace. The cross speaks forth perfect justice, and at once speaks forth a startling mercy. The cross speaks forth the wrath of God at the same time that it speaks forth an enduring declaration of the love of God. The cross speaks that God understands our suffering, and that our worst circumstance can be turned around to become something beautiful. The cross says that we will in Christ transcend the ever-present problem of evil within ourselves and all round about us. The cross speaks forth that God understands our suffering and is able to cause even our most grief-stricken and sorrowful times and our most shameful failures to turn out for good. The cross speaks forth a powerful grace in the form of penal substitution – for which I will give, not simply a biblical defense, but a philosophical defense. I hope everyone walks out convinced that this strange doctrine is really a very deep well of incredibly scandalous and delicious grace. In the end, the cross speaks forth a theologically profound word, and it also speaks forth a most tender and effectual pastoral word. The word of the cross speaks forth the only true transformation available to us as humans. The cross is the truest and surest word written supernaturally by the very finger of God Himself on the fabric of human history.