Walking Trees: And Other Short Stories that Change Everything I Believe About Jesus: Changing Everything Series, #1

By Ryan Fasani

The Gospels are a library of ever surprising material about the Divine and humans, family dynamics and emotional health, slavery and liberation, political economy and empire, materialism and greed, belonging and loneliness, sex and love. Why do we still read them with such indifference and talk about them with so little enthusiasm? 

 

Walking Trees answers these questions and offers an alternative. Each chapter is an unreserved, immersive journey into seven familiar Jesus stories. The reader will discover what's always been there but just out of sight: the message of Jesus is more creative, radical, and surprising than ever expected. It's nothing short of world-changing. 

Life is often mundane and predictable; the Bible doesn't have to be; Jesus definitely isn't! Walking Trees reminds us that when it comes to Jesus, there's never a dull moment… and everything we believe must change.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ryan Fasani
• Release date: Feb 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985384925

Book preview

Praise for Walking Trees

In his winsome way, Pastor Ryan Fasani opens to his reader some of the most well-known stories of scripture and gives them new life relevant to the world we find ourselves living in today. His words of hope and challenge are perfect for someone encountering scripture for the first time or who has lost their hope in the power of this book for their life and faith. As someone who has read and preached on each of these passages many times, Walking Trees offered me fresh insight into who God is and who God calls me to be.

—Rev. Heather Gerbsch Daugherty University Minister, Belmont University

Deconstruction is the current pop-theology topic of the day. However, Walking Trees is not just another ‘Guide to Deconstruction: With Other Things I Don’t Like About the Church I Grew Up In.’ It’s an invitation to think critically, to humbly allow perspectives to be challenged through the lens of scripture, and to let go of deconstruction for the chance to construct something better!

—Josiah Jones, Author of The Millennial Pastor and host of The Millennial Pastor Podcast

This book models the kind of Divine creativity that all biblical interpretation should possess. The Imagination that gave us air, land, and sea and dreamed up the reality of the Incarnation woos us into fresh perspectives of old stories. It's exactly these fresh perspectives of Gospel that made this book such a delight, and it's one I'll recommend to those who love the Church and stayed; as well as those who have soured on the church and left.

—Eric Paul, Ex. Dir. West HI Mediation Center and Justice Coordinator, HIPAC

As a therapist, I understand intimately there is more to a story than what is evident and easily first guessed. In the Bible, many nuances are hidden underneath the literary construction, yearning for our deeper prayer and cogitation. Listening for what is longing to be heard is necessary to enter the world of language and storytelling. Fasani does this in a warm, engaging, and thoroughly deeper inquiry into the heart of Jesus. It is a true unveiling as the reader follows along with his enthusiasm. He gathers the threads that are often missed and neglected, bringing hidden secrets into the open for our reflection and nourishment. How delightful, thought provoking, and satisfying. 

—Luther Matsen, Marriage and Family Therapist 

Ryan invites us to resist the urge of squelching divinely gifted imagination as we approach the text; while being reminded all scripture is God breathed, inspired, active, and alive both then and now.

—Kenny Wade, Missionary and Ecclesial Broker

Reading Walking Trees is like following Fasani into the woods—the familiar woods where I grew up and played on safe, well-marked trails—and watching him study the trees in varying light, pull back underbrush to trace their roots, and delight in the contours and layers of mystery I too quickly rushed past. This is a fascinating exploration of the land I love. 

—Nathan Oates, author of Stability and Kingdom Come: Seven Ways to Experience Resurrection Here and Now.

If you’re like me and grew up going to church every Sunday, reading the Bible can seem a bit boring after a while. But it doesn’t have to be that way. In Walking Trees, Ryan breathes new life into old stories we thought we knew everything about, challenging us to give the Bible another chance to inspire us as it once did. Whether you find yourself in the midst of deconstruction or just feel like your faith has gotten a bit stale and is in need of a little resurrection, this is the book for you.

—Zack Hunt, author of Unraptured: How End Times Theology Gets It Wrong

Changing Everything Series

Deconstruction is a term used to refer to the process of critically analyzing one’s religious origin(s). For good reasons, a book about deconstruction is published every week. Many of the practices and beliefs we grew up with are narrow, even unhealthy and hurtful.

The work of deconstruction that looks like demolition is the easy part. Much harder is figuring out what to do with all the fragments laying around after. The Changing Everything series chronicles Ryan Fasani’s journey of reconstruction—the work of piecing back together an honest, healthier faith after the one he inherited proved anemic.

The titles in this series avoid polemics and instead employ a hopeful tone as readers are led through familiar New Testament stories with fresh eyes. In the end, all the stories demand the same thing: everything must change!

Also by Ryan Fasani

Consuming Hope: Father and Son and Four Days to Live.

Curated Coals: And Other Resurrection Stories that Change Everything I Believe about Christianity (forthcoming)

To Bohdana,

for embodying the spirit of these stories . . .

and putting up with me when I don’t.

FOREWORD

Those who preach, teach or write about the stories of Jesus must confess that we are floating on the surface of an ocean of mystery. If we’re honest, we admit that we’re out of our depth. Frederick Buechner has said that preaching is to proclaim a Mystery before which, before whom, even our most exalted ideas turn to straw. This, in part, is why deconstruction and reconstruction are indispensable. Our interpretations, however insightful, are merely constructions—human attempts to fathom the depths of truth and meaning in the sacred text. Constructions emerge out of the experiences, sermons, culture and scholarship to which we have been exposed. We can be grateful for the interpretive lenses these influences have provided. But, unless we recognize the fallible character of constructions, we’ll sanctify our interpretations and close off the possibility of new discoveries.

Ryan Fasani’s book is a refreshingly bold exercise in reconstruction. As a devoted Christ-follower, Ryan is not a nihilist. His purpose is to be faithful to that which cannot be deconstructed, namely, the gospel of God’s love through Jesus Christ. The chapters of this book are attempts to let the central message of the Kingdom shine through in all its breathtaking beauty. The history of interpretation is not ignored or disparaged, but familiar stories, revisited with fresh imagination, open up to us in productive and provocative new light. No spoilers here! But after reading Ryan’s description of the potential relation between the woman caught in adultery and the mother of Jesus, I’ll never read that story the same way again.

As a pastor-farmer-writer-theologian (not in any particular order), Ryan brings an earthy sensibility to his consideration of the life and teachings of Jesus. How do these ancient, yet timeless, stories speak to concerns about the health of our planet, the quality of the food we eat, the inequitable distribution of power & wealth and the lonely disconnection of people in the digital age? If the message of Jesus is not shown to be relevant for these and other urgent issues, younger generations will look elsewhere for guiding principles.

Robert Frost wrote, When I was young my teachers were the old. . . . Now when I am old my teachers are the young. I’m grateful to have Ryan Fasani as one of my teachers. He represents a tribe of young leaders who are God’s gift to the church for this perplexing age. May we listen to what the Spirit is saying to the church through their voices.

Rick Power, Ph.D.

Kailua, Hawaii

INTRODUCTION

Everyone knows someone who saves tea bags.

Not for the compost, though that is a practical use.

Not to tear open and dress the base of houseplants, which is basically compost, but without the patience.

No, what I mean is everyone knows someone who saves tea bags and reuses them for tea. I (usually) make no judgment of tea bag savers, but I do have a strong, scientifically proven opinion about the practice: secondhand tea bags have little to no flavor.

They’re called spent after one use for a reason.

Of course, there are the thrifty by nature who are accustomed to planning in advance an abbreviated first steep, leaving a little life for the second.

And there are the miserly folks who would rather save a cent than admit that the second (and third and fourth) use of the same tea bag tastes any different. Obviously, they’re in denial.

There are also the creatives who are honest about the diminishing return on flavor but have come up with inventive ways to revive the tea, like add a little extra sugar the second time around, or consolidate two spent bags into one cup, or add a whole heap of bags to a glass jar, set it outside, and let the sun do its magic for the afternoon.

Truth is, even the most frugal among us (yes Grandma, even you), must admit that spent tea bags are worn out, flavorless, and virtually incomparable to the original.

Some interpretations of Scripture are spent, too. Not wrong, necessarily, just insipid and uninteresting, worn out, and virtually incomparable to the original meaning. If I can think of anything that Jesus is not, it’s flavorless and spent. Jesus, and the stories captured about him in the Gospels, are nothing like second-use tea bags.

Why then do we continue to interpret them in the same worn out ways?

Imagine stepping into church for the first time this coming week. If you removed the lights and speakers and huge flat screens (or the vestments and altar and seasonal curtains), would you encounter the radical, often subversive, always creative ministry and message of Jesus? Or would you receive a weak, tired cup of tea?

Many sermons are full of watered-down platitudes; small groups and Sunday school classes promote discussions about worn out topics; and too often worship songs are lyrically insipid. Again, the sermons and discussions and lyrics are not totally untrue; they’re just banal. This is the consequence of saving biblical tea bags! We’re reading and interpreting and internalizing the Jesus stories in ways that are overused and spent.

If you have ever had a warm cup of tea made from secondhand bags, then you know how underwhelming the experience is. Something in you—imagination, curiosity, an innate hope for more—says that a hot mug of tea ought to be delicious and satisfying. At the very least, it ought to be interesting. And you’re right. It can be. It should be.

In college, I was invited to have tea at an on-campus apartment. (Admittedly, not a common college activity.)  I grew up on Lipton black tea, sometimes hot, sometimes steeped in the sun, occasionally reused. You won’t blame me, then, when I say that I had essentially given up on tea by the time I was an adult. But the host was older. And female. I obliged to the offer with the lowest of expectations (for the tea).

She served Good Earth, and I'm not exaggerating when I say my (tea) life has never been the same. A world of contrasting yet complementary flavors sounded an alarm in my mouth. My taste buds, having been lulled to sleep from years of tasteless tea consumption, awoke, and my relationship with tea revived. I had no idea tea could be so full of flavor, so robust, so delicious.

You may have given up on tea altogether. You may have given up on the Jesus stories, too. I don’t blame you. Most tea is bland and uninspiring; most readings of the Jesus stories are the same.

Overused. Recycled. Diluted.

This book is my affirmation that your tea is a bore and my invitation to you to try something different. We have been saving biblical tea bags for too long. It’s time to engage these Jesus stories anew, with an expectation for more dynamic meaning. More flavor. More inspiration.

We live in a time when fresh readings of old stories are not only critical but necessary. My experience is that while the exodus of young people from church is at an all-time high, interest in the person and teachings of Jesus is also at an all-time high. Why is this?

At least part of it is the tea.

Friends, family, and former ministry colleagues who have left church behind see what, unfortunately, my most beloved and faithful church going friends often don’t: the Jesus stories are full of meaning (and flavor) beyond what is ever explored (or tasted) inside the walls of their former churches.

I’m not interested in trying to reinterpret old stories to lure people back into the church. That’s disingenuous. And doing so would come across as gimmicky, no less. Instead, I want to follow these people out of the confines of church-y clichés and Sunday school interpretations and dive further into the stories to (re)discover the rich and radical teachings of Jesus.

A good example is the story traditionally known as the Parable of the Talents (Matt. 25:14–30). I suggested in a sermon once that nothing in the story requires us to interpret the wealthy master as God. Whoa, did I ever experience resistance!

It’s so obvious, one person said after church. The master has to be God because the whole parable falls apart otherwise. And by falls apart I can only assume she meant the common interpretation—be a good steward—wouldn’t apply anymore.

Is it possible there's a fresh reading?  

In contrast, I made the same suggestion to a group of former churchgoing friends who are still interested in studying the Bible. Their response was intrigue and deeper engagement. If the master is not God, which they were all willing to explore, then the story could breathe again. And believe it or not, the whole thing doesn’t fall apart. It holds together and new beauty emerges. (You can read all about it in chapter 4).

Whether you’re a current churchgoer or not, the seven stories in this book are likely familiar. They are Sunday school staples. Their common interpretations, unfortunately, are trite and flavorless.

I experienced a similar rebirth of meaning with each story.

One detail is often all it took.

Like the master in the parable of the talents, one detail hinted that perhaps the story had more to tell me than what pastors often preach. And every time the temptation arose to relax and accept the tired interpretations, I buckled down and kept digging. And sure enough, the one detail would turn out to be not an anomaly but a sign pointing to an ore of meaning waiting to be mined. Without fail, the stories delivered, and I would have another biblical Good Earth experience.

Each of the seven stories I explore in this book is really my story of not settling for the common takeaway just because it's familiar. But even more, this book is my experience of what can be discovered when we begin with the conviction that the Jesus stories are not bound to singular interpretations. Scriptural meaning ought to be an ongoing conversation about discoveries and insights, fresh perspectives, and new understandings.

I’m adding my perspective to the mix.

I hope to help you put down your spent readings and experience once again the fresh, radical, creative, world-changing ministry and message of Jesus.

Welcome to the conversation.

We should do it over tea next time.

TEARING OPEN HEAVEN

Mark 1:9–13

––––––––

At that time Jesus came from Nazareth in Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. Just as Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.

At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.

The months of May and June 2001 were preparation time. The yard needed manicuring, the bridge that was to go over the pool for the ceremony needed to be built, the food and cake and lights and DJ and photographer all needed to be booked. The evening of June 30th, two hundred of our closest family and friends were joining my then fiancé and me in committing ourselves to marriage.

We thought this was also an opportune time to get baptized. After the sun had set, the food was gone, and the dancing had dwindled, we would return to the pool for another set of vows. The first vows were to each other, standing on the bridge over the pool, with Pastor Dan officiating from the deck. These vows joined us in marriage.

The second vows were in the pool, with Pastor Dan in the water with us. These vows were less about beginning something new, and were more about announcing something that had already begun. By including baptism in this important public gathering, we were formally and boldly proclaiming our faith in Jesus.

Let me back up a bit.

My belief that baptism is a (very wet) publicizing of a private faith holds within it a lot of theological assumptions.

Assumptions about the role of water.

Assumptions about what’s private and what’s public.

About faith and beliefs and how those are