Confessions of a Young Pastor

bye bye, blog

2008-04-26T22:02:00.003-05:00

I've been thinking about this for awhile--thinking about closing this blog down.

I remember starting this blog as an outlet for my transitional feelings as I stepped into my first "official" full time ministry position. I had things that I was upset about, things I didn't understand, things I didn't agree with, questions for which I didn't have answers, conclusions that were more "initial" than "proven"... and nowhere to get all of them out. Enter cyberspace.

Now, many of those things are still true of me and my current circumstances, but they are true to a much lesser extent. I find that the things that are going on now in my heart, mind, and ministry fit less in the category of "confessions" and more in the category of "questions."

Like so many seasons, you enter into them working off of an old script--with old formulations, assumptions, and answers. As you work your way in, however, the old script kinda fades away, revealing the timeless nuggets that survive from season to season, and allowing space for a new script to be written. I feel like my old script, for the most part, has faded appropriately. I've held on to what is true and timeless. And I'm ready for what is new to be written.

So, goodbye, Confessions of a Young Pastor. Hello [re]written:

http://myscriptrewritten.blogspot.com/

the arts, culture, and Jesus

2008-02-27T14:50:00.002-06:00

I have recently been blessed to be in a conversation with someone who takes both art and culture very seriously and passionately, and wrestles to reconcile its intrinsic value with how the Church of Jesus often dismisses it and even wars against it.

This person wrote an essay which I have not yet obtained permission to post, but essentially her point in her essay was that we should embrace our culture and its various artistic expressions, because though not all of us are brothers and sisters of Jesus, all of us are created by God in his image, and therefore have value.

I've posted my response to her essay below. Some of the responses are situation-specific; however, I feel many of them are easily accessible and applicable to the subject.

I read your essay in its entirety today. I now better understand your initial reaction to my talk on Sunday night. I would offer the following talking points as common ground for our conversation:

1. The unbiblical (and really, gnostic) separation between what is secular and what is sacred (or what is spiritual and what is material) is different than materialism. We were addressing the latter on Sunday night, and not the former.

2. It is too easy to take Jesus' message of denying oneself and turn it into either an ascetic life or a "castled" life, to use your metaphor. This was indeed not the spirit of Jesus' message, because it does not follow from how Jesus lived his life, nor with whom Jesus lived it. Perhaps I could have done a better job at being more clear on this point last Sunday.

3. The world is indeed alive with God, and to a very real extent, so is every person, regardless of their particular faith (or lack thereof). The fact that we are all made in the image of God, like you said in your essay, should inform not only how we view the world around us, but also should prompt us to embrace it, to a certain extent.

I'd also offer one challenge (or perhaps more accurately, a clarification or addition) to your essay:

1. Though in a sense we all reflect God regardless of our connection with Jesus, in another very real sense, we are indeed dead without Jesus. Now, to your point, it is often difficult if not impossible to see the vitality of Jesus' life coursing through the church, especially when it comes to its artistic expressions of Jesus' life through his body here on earth. This vibrant, beautiful life tragically gets reduced to lame platitudes that are meaningless and boring, usually in the name of "relevancy" or "clarity" or "practicality" or "application". Nevertheless, I can say, humbly yet confidently, that I am indeed alive in a way that unbelievers are not, regardless of how in touch they are with themselves and their world, as reflected in their various cultural and artistic expressions.

The significance of this point for me is how it informs the way I view the part of the world that is disconnected from Jesus. While I can accept their various cultural and artistic expressions as "true"--meaning they accurately and even geniusly capture their experiences in ways that demand my appreciation and careful attention--their particular expressions are nevertheless "fallen." I don't say that to devalue or dismiss their lives or expressions. Nor do I say that their expressions are devoid of any and all truth. But I do say that so that I do not romanticize something that falls tragically short of what it could be--if it were inspired by Jesus' personal love relationship with them. I say that so that I do not conflate their images with that of Christ in me. I think this conflation is tempting for most of us who have an appreciation for art and culture, and is indeed a difficult one in which to wrestle and keep in check.

hearts of servants

2008-02-19T10:36:00.005-06:00

Jesus, you are
Jesus, you were
Jesus, you will always be
A perfect servant to us
A perfect servant to death
Even death on a cross

Give us a picture of your face
Show us the measure of your grace
Reveal the love of the Father
Put within us tenderness
Release from us all selfishness
And we'll consider them better

We are Yours
Give us hearts
Of servants.

Shane & Shane, Hearts of Servants
from the album Carry Away

This is one of my favorite songs. It's beautifully written, arranged, and performed. The tone of the song matches the outcome; just like the song, a servant's heart is beautiful to behold. However, the process whereby a human heart is fashioned into a servant's heart is sometimes anything but beautiful.

One time Jesus' disciples brashly requested of Jesus, "Increase our faith!" Jesus responds to their demand with this sobering story about being a servant:

"Suppose one of you had a servant plowing or looking after the sheep. Would he say to the servant when he comes in from the field, `Come along now and sit down to eat'? Would he not rather say, `Prepare my supper, get yourself ready and wait on me while I eat and drink; after that you may eat and drink'? Would he thank the servant because he did what he was told to do? So you also, when you have done everything you were told to do, should say, `We are unworthy servants; we have only done our duty.' "
(Luke 17:7-10, NIV)

Now, how many folks would be jumping out of their seats to serve in Jesus' church after he shared that illustration from the pulpit? How many of us after hearing Jesus speak those words would say to ourselves, "Yeah, I wanna usher." or "You know, he's right; I should jump right into serving in the Children's Ministry." or "Gosh, how I am volunteering on the weekends really does matter. Thanks Jesus!"

Jesus doesn't seem to feel the need to inspire people to serve through grandiose stories or gestures. What he does do, however, is give us a glimpse of what makes the heart of a servant tick. Perhaps more accurately: Jesus gives us a glimpse of what doesn't make a servant's heart tick. What doesn't make the heart of a servant tick is this: its expectations on how its service will be rewarded.

How much of our service is contingent on our expectations of being rewarded for it? Take a moment to ask yourself: "Am I motivated to serve simply because of how I am benefitting from it?" "Would I continue to serve if those benefits disappeared?" "Do I struggle to serve because I feel like I'm not being rewarded enough, recognized sufficiently, or made to feel significant?"

To be clear, it is not wrong to feel rewarded through our service. Indeed, service of all types in Jesus' name can be very rewarding. Rather, when our service is fueled by reward and recognition, we find ourselves in a dangerous place. Which of course begs the questions: what should fuel the heart of a servant? How is a heart of a servant formed?

One Person answers both of those questions. A heart of a servant is formed as Jesus replaces our heart with his. Jesus does this as we interact with his stories of service recorded in the Gospels, as we put ourselves in positions to serve, and as we let his Spirit bring to our minds the times that our acts of service become fueled by something other than the love that Jesus serves to us daily through his cross.

When we look to serve, let us look to the cross of Jesus and reflect on what it means to our hearts before we look to any other factor. Let our service be purified by Jesus' pure act of service. And let us persevere in our service with attitudes of lowly servants, for the Son of God has become our brother.

counting the wrong cost

2008-02-13T16:16:00.002-06:00

"Suppose one of you wants to build a tower. Will he not first sit down and estimate the cost to see if he has enough money to complete it? For if he lays the foundation and is not able to finish it, everyone who sees it will ridicule him, saying, `This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.'
"Or suppose a king is about to go to war against another king. Will he not first sit down and consider whether he is able with ten thousand men to oppose the one coming against him with twenty thousand? If he is not able, he will send a delegation while the other is still a long way off and will ask for terms of peace. In the same way, any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple.
Luke 14:28-33

I think that we as Christian ministers spend a good amount of our energy counting the wrong cost. We ask: "How will so and so take this?" "How will guests react to that?" "How will that make me feel?" "Which contingents of our congregation will get behind this?"

Who cares?

Who cares how people will take it, or how they will react, or how it will make me feel, who who will get behind it?

Normally I would listen to the rational, mature voice in my head that says something like: "Now Jesse, you and I both know that all factors have to be considered. How you go about leading is every bit as important as where you are going. You can't just run over people and expect them to follow you."

But lately, another voice is getting louder in my head. It is drowning out that way of reasoning. It is screaming at me:

"People aren't even sure if I am real or not anymore! They spend most of their lives in darkness and doubt! They are living boring lives that are completely on their own terms! They do not connect with me, do not hear me, do not sense me, and will not respond to my voice! Your rhyme and reason, your scripts and boundaries, and your fears and desires are drowning out my voice! You are watering down my voice to sound like your own!"

"I AM SCARY! Quit trying to make me so safe! I AM MYSTERIOUS! Quit trying to make me so plain! I AM NEAR! Quit striving to make me so accessible; I'm already working in such plain ways, if only you had the eyes to see."

"I DON'T DEPEND ON YOU. YOUR FAILURES ARE INSIGNIFICANT. THEY DON'T MEAN ANYTHING. YOUR SUCCESS IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO YOUR WILLINGNESS TO FAIL, because if failure is a risk in your endeavors, you are having to trust Me for something.

"You are a speck, and everything you try to do is small. I am big, and everything I do is life-changing. Your influence is nothing; I breathe everything into being, and hold everything together. My words have the power to create new realities. I can take anyone I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, and make them completely new by simply speaking."

"You are afraid. Your fear dictates everything you do, and holds you back from everything I want for you."

I want to count the cost of letting God be God.

I am afraid to do that.

But I am more afraid of not.

character

2008-02-03T00:29:00.001-06:00

I recently had to write a blurb on character for one of our in-church publications. I thought I would post it here as well.

"For some reason, when I think of the word character, I think of the phrase “doing the right thing when no one else is looking.” Someone told me that once, or preached that at me once, or taught me that once, or disciplined me with that once. I can’t really remember which.

But character dives much deeper than that, and spreads far beyond just my inner life or private decisions. Character includes every good thing I should be characterized by.

Think about that for a second. If I am generally a good person, and yet I often have a quick temper, I am said to have a “character flaw.” My quickness to anger would be a blemish on my character. I lack the characteristic of patience, and in order to have character, I need to be patient.

Character includes every good thing I should be characterized by. Try as I might, I just can’t seem to always decide to be characterized by all of the good things I should.

Which brings me to what I think is the most important aspect of Christian character. Since this is our plight—since we just don’t seem to have it in us to make all the right decisions all of the time—we should first be characterized by humility, since we are all powerless without Jesus. After all, it’s Jesus’ character we’re after anyways, and he gives it to us only as a gift of his grace.

May we be characterized first by our humility towards one another as Jesus graciously works out all of our flaws. You might have to wait; he’ll be working on mine for awhile."

living with sin

2008-02-02T17:10:00.000-06:00

Recently I have been blessed with three guys to whom I can tell anything. I can share my struggles, my failures, my secrets, my desires, my plans... everything. They can help keep me accountable, offer advice, share stories, and together we have a lot better chance at actually doing the things we know we should and being the men we know we should.

It's great, and necessary. Critical even.

But I'm not writing about the need for accountability. That's not what is really standing out to me. What's standing out to me is this: even with accountability--even with people to confess to, people who confess to me, people who accept one another for who we really are--even with all of that, I am still plauged by sin, and the various temptations of it.

Now, I should be careful in that last statement. I don't mean to say that God-inspired, biblical accountability hasn't already helped me to be a better person in the short amount of time that I've had the chance to participate in it, because it really has. And it will continue to do so. And for it I'm unbelievably grateful. God has a much better opportunity to form the image of his Son in me because of it. And he's doing just that.

All I'm trying to say is this: it hasn't been the immediate, once-and-for-all cure to my sin problem. In fact, I'd go as far as to say that I have felt even more tempted in the short time that I've had accountabiltity than in the times previous.

Well, maybe that isn't true. I bet the temptation is about the same. Now, however, I can feel the struggle more acutely, since through accountability the Spirit has a louder voice in my ear than he did before.

All of that to say, through the eyes of accountability--through the renewed desire and power that it has born in me to live righteously--I'm even more aware of the sin all around me. This world is given over to it. Part of me is given over to it still. I am still fallen, as is this world I live in. The stain of sin is permanent, and it is deep.

To which I am forced to conclude: the life I am destined to live will inevitably include sin. It will. We are trapped in it.

So much of our world seeks to overcome our fallenness without really recognizing it for what it is--tragically fallen. We do what we can to stay in shape or lose weight. We do what we can to get ahead financially. We do what we can to shore up our addictions and violence, whether they are private, domestic, or international.

But we are so prone to it. We are drawn to it. We fall back into it. For every step forward, we take two or three steps back.

And then we medicate our consciences about how guilty we feel for taking those steps back. Alcohol, pot, porn, a purchase beyond our means... anything to dull the pain, anything to avoid seeing our lives as they truly are. The cycle doesn't ever seem to end. It's like quicksand that pulls us all in. Perhaps the strong survive longer. But it's really only longer to struggle.

And we can't break the cycle. We can't. We can put disciplines in place to lengthen our physical lives and enrich our spiritual lives. We can form accountability relationships to allow us to live wholistically and enable us to face life's difficulties with the strength of community. We eat and spend more wisely. And we should. But make no mistake: the cycle will not break because of these things.

The cycle breaks because Jesus was broken for us, and because Jesus breaks us, and because we let him, and because we live in our deaths, and because we live in his life.

And because we see all of our character flaws in light of his wounds. And because we see past our own circumstances to see that they are no longer held against us or lorded over us. And because we see that God sees us in our cycle, loves us in our cycle, and promises one day that the cycle will indeed end. And because we see increased power in our lives to live in the cycle--both in terms of us not sinning as much, and being more merciful towards those who sin against us.

To know peace in the midst of sin. To feel secure in the face of failure. To rest in the neverending unbreakable love of God despite never being able to earn it or further it. To know that the pangs of pain in my own soul now serve a purpose--to drive me to me knees and strengthen my grip on the cross of Jesus. To no longer run and hide because of my transgressions, but to put them on display, splattered with the blood of my Savior and brother. To rest in my imperfection while waiting hopefully for my perfection.

We are not destined to be without sin while we live here. We are destined to live with it, and to hate it and laugh at it all at the same time.

Thank you Jesus.

How does a master become mastered?

2008-01-20T00:03:00.000-06:00

Fools 1 say in their hearts, "There is no God."
Psalm 14:1

I think if the psalmist rewrote this verse today, it would read: "Fools say in their hearts, 'There is only material.'"

Material. Things that you see with your eyes. Things that you hear with your ears. Things that you can reproduce, manipulate, understand, steward, grow, and master. That is all there is.

The modern age has brought with it many amenities. We no longer have to submit to the heavenly lights; we can now work around the clock, 365 days a year if we so choose. We no longer have to pray to the gods for healing; mere handwashing eliminates many of those diseases we have identified as germs. Great distances can be traversed in a matter of hours; what were defining journeys for an entire age of explorers have now become business trips for mid-level executives. What men and women gave their lives to deliver can now be safely transmitted through encrypted e-mail messages. Parents no longer need worry about their child's whereabouts; just flip on the GPS-enabled cell phone, send a text message, or interrupt their date with an antiquated phone call.

What we once had to submit to now submits to us. What once mastered us, we now master. What were once mysteries beyond our comprehension now appear in our grade school textbooks.

There is nothing left to discover. All that is left to do is systematize, manufacture, and reproduce.

It is no wonder we wonder where God is.

It used to be that life brought us to our knees. Power shifts were inevitable and often, and always brought with them war, death, rape, and captivity. The flu was synonymous with widespread death. A wild animal could befall a village, killing off the next generation. Children were stillborn; their mothers were afraid of dying at birth.

And people would pray, sacrifice, dance, cut, wail, fornicate, fast, worship, bathe, and cry out to their gods. They knew that part of living meant encountering things bigger than them, things they did not understand, things that were out of their control. They knew this because they the lived in it every day. The world was a magical place, full of good magic and evil magic. But make no mistake about it; it was magic.

No longer. We no longer sacrifice to the gods for a good crop... at least, most of us do not. We have things called grocery stores (which, by the way, exist only because we have good crops. We just don't have to see where all of that food comes from anymore.) We don't have to cut ourselves so that the gods will call off the plague and heal our people; we have CAT scans and blood tests and biopsies and X-rays, and people called doctors to interpret and prescribe procedures.

We fast only to lose some weight, or to "cleanse." We dance because the music has a good beat. We bathe because we want to smell good.

At no point are we forced to admit or come to grips with a part of life that we do not at least have the possibility of controlling.

And when we do, we almost feel violated.

How different we are than the rest of humanity throughout its existence. We are really the first humans who have to struggle to "fit" the supernatural into our normal mode of thinking and perceiving. We have to "make believe" or "imagine" for the spiritual to share in our world.

In a world where we have mastered all of creation, we have to create God.

Again, it is no wonder that we wonder where God is.

Alas, our exalted position is only a farce; our kingship only a false front. While we have mastered our surroundings, our own hearts condemn us. We are consumed with lust. We are addicted to greed. We must fight for our rights, our equality, our fuel, our way of life.

We are ruled by our ever-growing bellies. Anger grips our tongues. We speak of character and integrity and hope, but our own lives betray our many secret inconsistencies and hypocrisies.

We spend more than we earn. We save not as much as we should, and give away even less. We worship the image of power and sexuality and influence and charisma. And we couldn't stop worshiping them if our very lives depended on it.

And they do.

And no created God is sufficient enough to save us from ourselves. Only a God outside of us. Only a God that is not mastered by us... and not mastered by the things that master us.

How does a master become mastered?

motivations

2007-12-27T11:27:00.000-06:00

So then, if you know the good you ought to do and don’t do it, you sin.
James 4:17

Yes, James. I agree. But I ask: what is it in us that motivates us to actually do what we ought?

I am fascinated by this question, because as I observe myself and others, I am amazed/confused/scared/awed/angered/disgusted/ convicted/blessed/humbled by all that motivates us to do good things. Yep. I feel all of those about my own motivation and that of others... sometimes simultaneously.

Here's what sparked all of this. Because of the writer's guild strike, all of the networks are having to put on re-runs of their sitcoms, dramas, and talk shows. In flipping through the channels, I came across a summer re-run of the Colbert Report, which frequently addresses religious topics (albeit in a sarcastic yet insightful manner). This particular episode was covering an August Time Magazine cover article on Mother Teresa.

The Time article covered a book that had just been published entitled Come Be My Light. The editor of the book had gathered 50 years worth of personal communication from Mother Teresa to many of her confessors--spiritual confidants and guides.

One would expect that this book would be packed full of wisdom about a deep and abiding love-relationship with God, and how this love-relationship continually fuels selfless acts of service. The book fails to meet that expectation, however.

In fact, the book dashes that expectation to pieces and replaces with a stark, haunting reality: Mother Teresa's 50 years of service were not categorized by a sense of intimacy and closeness to God. Instead, they were characterized by darkness, confusion, loneliness, and a need for God that He never seems to meet.

That can't be. The editor must have gathered letters only from the times Mother Teresa struggled, and then blew them out of proportion by publishing them only.

Not true. The publisher is actually an ardent follower and admirer of Teresa, and is a Catholic himself. He even lobbies for Mother Teresa's canonization.

Well, everyone has times of doubt. I mean, look at Mother Teresa's situation. The need was so great, the setting so dark, and she was surrounded by it all the time. It had to have been overwhelming. I'd wonder where God was, too.

Sure. But that wasn't the thing Mother Teresa sorrowed over. What she sorrowed over was a continuous, characteristic, gaping lack of intimacy with God, despite her repeated advances and requests. She felt like she had it before she embarked on her calling, and felt like she never regained it during her years of service in India.

Gosh... I just have such a hard time believing that. There's got to be a piece (or several pieces) of the puzzle that are missing there. It just doesn't make sense that someone could serve like she did for so long without really sensing the presence of God.

Why is that?

Well, I just can't imagine any amount of discipline, altruism, or whatever that would keep someone doing what she was doing for how long she did it. I mean, she believed that this is what God had called her to do... but she rarely felt His love for her? She felt dark and abandoned more often than not? No way. I would have left. I mean, she sacrificed everything for someone who's mere existence she often questioned because of rarely sensing His intimacy or nearness. People don't do that, especially when the sacrifice is so great.

People do it everyday.

Name one.

Ok. How about the woman who stays married to a dangerously violent man for her entire life?

Go on...

Well, think about it. A man and a woman get married after a whirlwind romance. Sure, they've both got problems, but they're both young, and have their entire lives to figure it out, right? Well, not two years into the marriage, the woman discovers that the man she thought she married is a far cry from the man she's discovering her husband to be. They have a kid now, but a good father he is not. He doesn't seem to be patient with her anymore, is rather quick tempered, and one day hits her for burning his toast, right in front of their toddler.

Yeah, but...

Just a second. Stay with me here. The woman has a deep, abiding belief in the sanctity of marriage--her mother and father taught her that, her church reinforces it, and all of her peers judge anyone who splits up a family. "You stay together; commitment is the only key to a successful marriage."

So she stays. Come hell or high water, she stays. The alternative is too fearful to even consider. The weight of her own belief, coupled with the expectations of the many voices in her community forbid her to reveal to anyone what is going on. Above all else, she has to be a good example, a model of a good wife and mother. And a good wife and mother stays with her family, good or bad, in sickness or in health. She gave her oath. She made a commitment. She promised. And nothing good comes from a broken promise.

So you're equating God to an abusive husband, and Mother Teresa to a battered wife?

I'm equating Mother Teresa's God with an abusive husband.

So there's more than one God, then?

In reality, no, there is only One. But in the realities that we create and fashion for ourselves, there are as many "Gods" as there are people.

Interesting. I think I see where you are going. But that is still awfully hard to believe: Mother Teresa, despite all of her years of service, despite following Jesus' second most important command literally and fervently, fashioned God into something or someone that He wasn't?

It's hard to say... and far be it from me, as someone who is honestly unwilling to make the same sacrifice that Mother Teresa made, to hastily and assuredly come to such a conclusion. But man... 50 years that are characterized by wondering if God was real, by feeling dissatisfied, by not feeling loved in the way that you desire, by feeling jilted to the point where you wonder if Jesus is true... that makes you wonder what kind of God Mother Teresa was really serving.

It does... so what do we do with that?

Well, I take a couple of things away from Mother Teresa's story. First, I think we need to understand something about ourselves as human beings. Human beings seem to have this creative, deceptive ability to "irrigate their souls" when God's fountain seems to have dried up.

Huh?

Think of it this way: a lot of people claim to do things in the name of God's love, right?

Right...

I mean, you name it: teach, lead, shepherd, guide, serve, sing, greet, give, administrate, organize, recycle, prophesy, intercede, pray, confront, submit...

Yeah, yeah, I get it. Your point being?

Well, are they doing those things because they love God, or are they doing them because of God's love for them?

Isn't it both?

Well, it should be both. We should do things because God loves us, and because we love God. But often times, we do them simply because we love God. In other words, we do them because we know that we should love God, and we love God by obeying God through these various acts.

And what's wrong with that?

Nothing. And everything.

Nice. Way to be needlessly unclear. Really makes you look intelligent.

I don't mean to get all "Confucian" on you. Let me explain. In one sense, nothing is wrong with doing things because you know you should, even when you don't feel like doing them. I mean, just because I don't feel an overwhelming sense of God's intimate love for me does not give me an excuse to neglect the poor or not give my money to God.

Right...

But in another sense, if I don't characteristically receive and feel God's love for me, then my good works are characteristically motivated by... well... the same thing a pagan's good works are motivated by.

And that is?

Me. Motivated entirely by me. By my desires, by my will, by my decision, by my effort by my altruistic beliefs and convictions. Doesn't matter if it happens to match what the Bible tells me to do, or what the latest self-help book tells me to do. It still depends on me, and me alone.

Ok, I get that. But what does that have to do with where you started--with what you said about humans having this ability to "irrigate themselves" or something like that?

Well, the picture God gives us in his Word is for us to live a life that flows out of his life, of us to express a love that continually flows from his continual love for us. However, we often find that while the demands of life, ministry, and mission require expressions of love from you, rarely do they require you to receive God's love before you express loving service.

Give me an example.

Sure. Let's say that you're married with 3 kids. The kids have to eat, and you have to provide for them. The kids have to be taught, and you have to teach them. They have to be disciplined, clothed, educated, made to feel safe and secure. You have to do all of this. And those demands just don't stop, now, do they?

I suppose not.

You suppose correctly. The kids need to be fed, spanked, dressed, in school, getting good grades, getting along with their peers and siblings, and so on. But: do you have it in you, not only to do all of those things, but to do them in the way that God desires? Do you have the patience and gentleness in your heart to parent your child how God wants you to? Do you have the joy that will allow you to celebrate even the least significant of their accomplishments? Do you have the humility of spirit that will enable you to wade through their judgmental and arrogant teenage years? Do you have the self control that will prevent you from abusing your power and authority?

It seems like you're setting the bar awfully high.

Well, God's the One setting the bar, but you are making my point exactly. We have a tendency to permit ourselves to "just get the job done." And we usually have it in us to do so. The kids need to be disciplined. Johnny just mouthed off to his mother. The kids need to be clothed. Susie has just outgrown her shoes that we bought her 3 months ago. Billy is getting poor grades, and the teacher wants to have a conference with us, but work is way too crazy right now to allow any time for that. The last thing that I need to worry about is whether or not I'm doing this the "right" way. I just need to get this done. It's my God-given responsibility; my God-given mission. And so from obedience we rip any need to depend on God, and replace it with my own need to accomplish my God-given task.

And our circumstances more often than not permit this mode of operation, even when it comes to our ministry efforts. Love your neighbor. Share your faith. Give your money. Serve your church. Yes, these are things that God calls and commands us to do. But we are to do it with Him before we do it for Him. And we only do these things with God as we take time to receive God's life and love. And as we do, we depend on that life and that love to fuel what we do for God.

So you're saying that more often than not, we consider it our God-given duty to express God's love in service to others before receiving God's love for ourselves?

Well put.

And you're saying that most of our jobs, families, and even churches permit and even encourage this way of living?

Yes, in my experience, I'd say so.

And you're saying that we've permitted ourselves to reduce obedience from an act of dependency on God to an act of dependency on our own will?

That seems to be our pattern.

And you're saying that we use the feeling from our obedience to God's commands and mission as a substitue for receiving God's intimate and personal love for each of us?

That's the danger, yes.

Well, that's certainly a lot to think about.

You're telling me.

Mike Stubbe

2007-12-13T14:10:00.000-06:00

I recently messaged some of my high school friends via facebook about something significant that happened to me today; I thought I'd post it here as well. It's below:

Hey everyone,
Sorry to invade your facebook inboxes with a rather long and admittedly random note, but something has happened to me today that I'd like to share with you.

A man from our church passed away last week. Maybe some of you knew him; I didn't. His name was Mike Stubbe. He was 26, and a 2000 graduate of CF High. He had been married for 6 years, and had a 5-year old daughter. Mike's daughter found him lying on the couch one morning, covered in a blanket, but dead. He had passed away sometime during the night. The autopsy has been, so far, inconclusive.

I was asked to sing a couple of songs at his funeral today. That's a weird part of my job; I am confronted with the reality of death fairly regularly. Anyways, this one stood out to me. Maybe it'll stand out to you.

While I was getting soundchecked before the funeral, our tech guy was playing through some of the songs that Mike's wife had requested we play sometime during the funeral. One of them was a "blast from the past"--K-Ci and JoJo's "All My Life." As it came over the speakers, I thought to myself: "I have memories of that song." I remember that song playing on the radio right in the middle of college life, when communities and identities were forming, when most things were new or firsts, and when the future was finally starting to be written.

Mike and his wife, Tami, had memories of that song, too. It was playing at a similar time in their life together. It was significant enough to them to be played at Mike's funeral.

And that familiarity--that commonality I had with them in that song--shocked me. Normally I can wrap my mind enough around what happens at a funeral that I can remain somewhat detached, even when the cause of the funeral is pretty tragic. But it was more difficult with this one. He was my (read: our) age. He was in good health. He was a godly man. He wasn't screwing around with his life. Nevertheless, his set amount of days came to an abrupt end.

And that is the somewhat cold reality of life. It ends, and there's really no guarantee, and even the odds can be deceiving. Now, God is sovereign and faithful, and has been explicitly so to Tami, in ways that are too numerous to mention in this already lengthy note. Even with that being said: each of us simply does not know and can not know how much longer we will be here.

So, here's the encouragement that I've felt and that I'd like to pass on to you: no matter where you find yourself right now, or where you've been, or where you think you're going, remember that what really matters in life is knowing God, and living God's life. I listened to Mike's brother get up say as much; that's how he makes sense of this. And it's not an empty truth. God gives meaning and hope through Jesus, linking this life with the next. Clinging to him is our only chance of surviving and even thriving in the face of everything that comes our way.

I know it's not the same as you experiencing this firsthand, but I hope that God is able to draw you nearer to himself through these words, and that they help to keep things in perspective during what promises to be another hectic and loaded holiday season.

Authority

2007-11-28T16:19:00.001-06:00

"But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God's grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! Again, the gift of God is not like the result of the one man's sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God's abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ. Consequently, just as the result of one trespass was condemnation for all men, so also the result of one act of righteousness was justification that brings life for all men. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous." [Romans 5:15-19]

I was asked once about this passage: "This doesn't seem equitable. How can one good act by one good man remedy the many evil acts by billions of people?" This question gnawed at me. Part of me thought, "It seems like the scales are very much still unbalanced. There is more evil in the world than good. There is more evil in my life than good." Is the work of Christ diminished to some other-worldly, future hope that "it'll all be different in heaven", while in the meantime the world seems to be going to hell, and parts of my life with it?

I revolt at that. Anger at the injustice and inequity in the world tempts me to point a finger at God, and shame at what I've done yet not been held accountable for bids me to run and hide. I feel both at the same time. Despite these conflicting emotions, I nevertheless conclude: heaven later does nothing to fix hell now.

These are the things the Enemy whispers into my ear.

The crux of the dilemma above seems to have something to do with justice. It doesn't seem "fair" or "right" that one man dying on one cross has the capacity to right all of the wrongs committed by all of the men and women who have ever lived. And perhaps it doesn't… at least in our ledgers. But our ledgers are far from balanced… at least in God's bookkeeping.

Our ledgers allow us to easily see the injustices in our world. Women who are battered. Children who are hungry. People who have a target (literally or metaphorically) on their backs because of the DNA they were given at birth. Times and circumstances in which we've been treated unjustly or unfairly… or even hurtfully. And when our ledgers tell us that there are past due accounts like these, we cry out for them to be paid back in justice for the guilt they've incurred.

The problem is that there are flaws in our ability to book keep. For some reason, we are awfully good at keeping someone else's account (like that of the racist, or of the exploiter, or of the abuser), but absolutely terrible at keeping our own.

And I am reminded of a passage from Psalm 130, verses 3 and 4: "If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins, O Lord, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness; therefore you are feared."

My conscience cries out for justice to be leveraged on me for my own sin every day. I cannot keep track of how many characters I've successfully assassinated in my own mind, how many adulteries I've had in my heart, or how many selfish interests I've protected over the course of my brief time here on this earth. Before I cry out for social justice, perhaps I should cry out for personal mercy:

"O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy." [Psalm 130:1]

The fact that I am still standing and breathing is a testimony to God's mercy. The fact that the stain of humanity has not been completely and utterly wiped clean from God's good earth is evidence of a merciful God. Take a moment to look at your own ledger. You are forced to conclude that the amount of marks in the red far outnumber the marks in the black. And yet you remain, likely living a fairly blessed life by most of the world's standards. Why?

"The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." [2 Peter 3:9]

And then, all of a sudden, we're grateful for the apparently deferred judgment.

And then, we realize that this world can change only as we are changed.

And then, we realize that we are changed because God hasn't deferred our judgment, but has already punished humanity's representative for its sins.

And then, we realize that we are changed beause God is merciful, for He has elected his incarnated Son, Jesus, as humanity's representative.

event planning

2007-11-28T16:06:00.001-06:00

One of the things that I am not very good at is event planning. Which is an ok thing to not be good at for most people… mainly people who don't plan events for a living. But it's a problem for youth pastors. Event planning is pretty much the scaffolding around which ministry in a youth setting is done. And I suck at it.

I guess I don't suck at it. But I'm not the best. And it stresses me out. So many details to remember. So many possibilities to forget. So many volunteers to ask to help, to follow up with, to support. So many questions from students. So many messages to plan, ideas to brainstorm, slides to make, multimedia to set up. It makes me tired to just list all of it.

I often wonder when it gets down to crunch time of one of these major events: is this all worth it? Is this what ministry is supposed to be about? It all costs so much… financially, physically, mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually.

I was pondering this tonite, while sitting around a bonfire at our college retreat. It's Saturday night, and I've just gotten over the "hump" of the retreat—I've given my 3^rd of four talks, after leading two worship sets, and tomorrow's talk is a done deal. We've gotten up here safely, the weather has been great, the students seem to be responding, the food's been good, and we haven't had any major tech issues. Looks like it's gonna be a success, which alleviates some anxiety, which gives me space to think.

And I think: could we have got more students to come? How many should we shoot for next year? Was all of this work worth it? Is this going to be significant in the lives of these students?

And as I thought that, a story popped into my head from the John Ortberg series my small group has been listening to and discussing. It's the one where Jesus is telling the parable about the man throwing this huge banquet, inviting everyone who's anyone, only to find that all of his A-list invites make excuses and go back on their RSVPs on the day of the party. They're snubbing the host.

The host responds by having his servants search everywhere—even the slums—to fill up his party. And fill up the party the servant does. He finds plenty of people who "aren't doing anything on Saturday night." And just like that, the disabled and feeble-minded are now walking the same red carpet as the stars would have… if only they had made good on their RSVPs.

God, of course, is the host in the story. The A-listers who go back on their initial acceptance of God's invitation are [most of] his chosen people, the Jews. And the disabled and feeble-minded… well, that's all of the rest of us who, disabled and broken from our own sin, have benefitted from the rescinded RSVPs.

God planned this amazing event… but even an event planned by God himself wasn't "attractive" enough to draw the "big names" in big numbers.

And I got to thinking: maybe "big names in big numbers" shouldn't be something that I worry about. Maybe it shouldn't be one of the things I use to determine how well one of my event-planning endeavors turned out. Maybe my events are a success for the same reason that God's event was a success: because God was there. Maybe my effort should be directed toward getting whoever will accept God's invitation to show up, rather than try to make the event attractive to the big names in big numbers… and to give God praise for filling his event with those who he has chosen.

So, God… thanks.

Joseph, Jesus’ Dad

2007-11-28T15:43:00.001-06:00

There's a line in Mercy Me's song "Joseph's Lullaby" that grabbed me tonight. The song, as its title communicates, is written as if Joseph was singing a lullaby to his infant son, Jesus. The scene of the song takes place sometime shortly after Jesus is born—perhaps the very night Mary gave birth. And Joseph sings:

"You have a long road before you—rest your little head."

The long road before you. That part of the line struck me. I feel like that a lot—like the road ahead of me is long. I started to think of the road that is set before me each day:

I am undisciplined. I let my appetite go unchecked too often, let my eyes linger too long, and let my spending run too far ahead of my paycheck. I am quick to judge, and rarely quick to listen. I get angry, and am a master at justifying it, spinning it to serve my own interests. And that's the short list.

These things litter the road that is set before me. I am who I am. This is the road I will travel, and these are the obstacles looming out ahead of me.

And God the Father sees this. Every day He sees this. He sees me walk this road and, as I come upon these obstacles, He sees me falter. In fact, He saw me walk and falter long before I even began to do it with my skin on. He saw that what I was going to do, if He didn't do something about it, was eventually going to lead to my death. My death—me being separated forever from the Life He Has. Me walking a road that leads away from him, toward my self-destruction.

And so he gave his Son a road to travel—an even longer road than mine:

"Walk his road, so that he can walk with Me on mine." That was the road that was set before Jesus: change me.

I think that changing someone—I mean, truly changing another person, permanently and for the better—is the single most difficult thing to do in this world. Think about it. Let's say your job is to spend 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, 49 weeks per year (that's right… you get 3 weeks vacation!) with a gang member who has known the way of violence for as long as he can remember being alive. Your task is to change him into being a non-violent, legitimately-working citizen.

How would you do it? How long would you need? Could you stay with it, walking with him through the ups and downs, through the dangers and snares, all the while remaining an attractive and alternate option to the lifestyle he has grown so accustomed to? Would your mercy know no bounds as he returned to that lifestyle periodically despite showing some growth? Would the life that you produced in him, if you were successful, remain in him even apart from your physical presence? Would you be willing to count the daily cost necessary to change just one person's life?

Jesus was willing. I don't know how he was able, but he was, and he is. And he walks my long road with me even today.

room for mystery

2007-10-15T02:26:00.000-05:00

The Lord has been whispering to me, which is a funny thing to say. On the one hand, I feel like He's not close enough to whisper. But this is only from my perspective. Indeed, he must be close enough for me to type what he's been whispering.

He's been whispering something along these lines:

"Can your eyes see, your mind allow, and your heart accept my mysteries?"

His mysteries. Here's how he has been whispering them to me:

Jesus' kingdom message is itself an embrace of mystery. Jesus proclaims to us: my Father's rule is mythically and supernaturally breaking into this world right now through Me, your Curse-Bearer.

He goes on to illustrate this new kingdom reality with more mystery. Jesus says his Father's kingdom is like a seed that is scattered on the ground, remains untended by human hands, and yet grows from the earth all by itself. He goes on to say that this kingdom is like a tiny "pine nut" growing into a massive pine tree (the Message's rendering of Jesus' mustard seed parable).

Stop for a second. When you read that last paragraph, did you think: "Well, perhaps the original readers of those accounts of Jesus simply didn't know how a seed grows." Or, "Actually, a pine nut contains all of the necessary DNA coding to grow a pine tree to its maturity."

Now, without traveling down some sort of long and uncalled-for defense of the intellect of Jesus' contemporaries, suffice it to say they knew enough about how seeds grow to know that if it did not get planted in properly tilled soil, receive adequate water, and protected from the sun and weeds that chances are, it was not going to grow--as any green thumb can readily attest to. And when a seed did manage to grow up into a plant without any sort of human intervention, well, that was so unlikely that it was indeed mysterious.

To look at a vast forest of pine trees, and know that no one planted them. To see a a sapling at the base of a great tree, and to know that it sprouted because a nut dropped from one of the branches. No hole was dug. No food was added. But roots found their way in, and lo and behold, it is on its way to taking its place in the canopy.

It inspires mystery. Awe. Wonder. Even amazement. Mouths dropped at something so unlikely.

Like a God who knows and sees the depths of our (most often hidden) evil and devises an elaborate plan, not for our eradication, but for our redemption.

Stop and let him grow his mystery up in you. Let this great mystery overwhelm your doubt, your shame, your guilt, your fear, your pain, your anxiety. Let your mouth open, your heart well up, and your eyes shed tears at a God who loves so mysteriously.

bigger

2007-10-11T00:10:00.001-05:00

"You have to keep in mind the big picture."

"Don't miss the forest for the trees."

What exactly is the big picture?

What's the biggest picture?

I'd guess that it's redemption. God redeems broken humanity in a broken world. When it comes to a mission or a vision, what could possibly eclipse God's redemption?

And yet.

And yet, every day I find myself getting sucked down undercurrents, enticed off of the way, compelled to take a side in some battle masquerading as the war itself.

This person felt mistreated. That person felt mismanaged. This person feels like they were given the runaround. That person feels like another is getting more than they deserve. This person feels like they're not getting as much as they deserve.

And each "situation" balloons up, appearing to be about one hundred times more significant than it really is... or, more accurately perhaps, than as it should be.

And yet.

And yet, there are some real mistakes being made, and some real injustices being permitted. It's not right. It's not fair. It's irresponsible to ignore. It's lazy not to take a side.

And yet.

And yet, we're all on the same side. Not in terms of peformance, or of decision-making, or of preference, or of gifting, or of perception, or of opinion, or of philosophy, or of conviction. No, all of those things differ, sometimes radically, from person to person. My conviction seems to imply that yours is all wrong. Your perception seems to imply that mine is at its best misinformed. You might be right; I might be wrong. No, we are indeed not at all on the same side when it comes to matters that are subjective, even if we ascribe to (differing) objective standards.

We are, however, on the same side when it comes to spirituality. No, not subjective spirituality, like your preference in preaching styles or subjects, your tastes in music, or whether you prefer Sunday school or small groups. In fact, the further we are polarized on such matters, the more content we are with ourselves that our particular preference is the "right one." Which brings me back to the first sentence of this particular paragraph.

We are on the same side when it comes to objective spirituality. Objective spirituality. Who you are objectively as a spiritual being. Who I am objectively as a spiritual being. You are the same as me, I as you, and you and me as anyone else. You, me, and everyone else who has ever walked anywhere on this earth. An American, a Roman, an Israelite, a son of Eden. We all have been, we all are, and we all will forever be objectively--absolutely, regardless of our particular circumstances or experiences or whatever--dead without Jesus, and redeemed in him.

The big(gest) picture is redemption in Jesus. The biggest picture is not who the next staff person should be, or which philosophy should win out, or where the damned music is heading. Now, to be fair and realistic, those types of things rise in their importance relative to the local church. But not everything is relative to the local church. The local church is not simply local; she is a part of the universal church, and should first gather her identity from her solidarity with all of humanity at all times. Humans are dead and dying without Jesus. And humans are redeemed to life and freedom with Jesus.

What might our normal, everyday transactions look like if we kept before our hearts and minds this big picture? What if we dedicated as much of our ministry effort toward keeping the big picture before our eyes every day as we do on everything else? Perhaps it wouldn't "solve" everything else, because to be sure, differences exist, and a direction will have to be established in spite of them. Nevertheless: I wonder how much of our squabbling comes about as a result not of our differences, but of our myopia.

May our vision never be reduced to something that is lesser than redemption, O Lord.

maturity

2007-09-29T00:35:00.000-05:00

Well, I've gotten through an entire calendar year now, at least from a ministry programming standpoint. I think the word that best captures it is this: humbling.

This is the pattern for me: I thought I knew / I didn't know as much as I thought I did / I didn't know as much as I needed to know / the things I do know are still the things that matter the most. How much sense does that make? A lot to me, but perhaps not a lot to anyone else.

The steepest learning curves? There have been two. First: practical, earthy, everyday knowledge. Managing and forecasting a budget towards effectiveness, growth, and clarity. Utilizing various multimedia tools creatively and coherently. How to observe what other ministries do in a way that is both appropriately critical and appropriately helpful to my own. Learning how to organize and manage a calendar, communicate with a team, and honor life outside of ministry.

Second: working from a low position. Better first to understand and serve rather to critique and judge. Figuring out which hills are there for you to die on, and which hills are there for your education. Earning trust instead of deserving it. Having the courage to be silent rather than speak your mind. Discerning how to help before learning how to lead.

And yet, the things that I do know are the things that matter the most. And that is encouraging. Living life in God's presence--my presence to his Presence, moment by moment--matters. Encouragement and exhortation toward that life is worth the cost. Protecting that life from the packaging or trappings of culture matters. Producing disciples--from either side of the faith line--matters. Preaching the Bible matters. Serving the community matters. Being local and not copied matters. These are the things that I know, and these are the things that matter. Not that the things that I didn't know and had to learn don't matter; it's just that they don't matter as much.

And that's my (brief) summary of year one as a young pastor.

My Will, but not My Power

2007-08-15T19:30:00.000-05:00

I believe that the Spirit brought this to my mind the other day: we often confuse--or, perhaps more accurately, we conflate--the concept of our will with the concept of our power.

Take this statement, for example: "You are responsible for your own spiritual growth." Now, that statement is completely and utterly true when it concerns our will. We, as followers of Jesus, do indeed have to make an intentional choice to follow him, which entails choosing to do certain things and practice certain disciplines that, when energized by the Holy Spirit, will form the life of Christ in us. In that respect, it very much is our choice and our decision. Without us choosing to do so--without making the decision to personally and devotedly follow Jesus in the ways he has directed us to follow him--we indeed will not grow. We must engage our will, and submit it to God's will.

However that same statement--"You are responsible for your own spiritual growth"--becomes an utter lie when it concerns our power. We, on either side of death, are forever incapable of growing ourselves. We can not produce or manufacture this maturing and developing life of Jesus in ourselves, no matter how disciplined we are, and no matter how hard we have willed it. God has done it first by breathing his breath of life into his image. Jesus has done it again by regenerating God's broken image within us, through his death on the cross and resurrection to new life. The Spirit continues to do it as he guides us on the various paths all leading to our death (to ourselves) and our life (hidden in Christ). And while we can choose to do certain things that allow us to experience and participate in this redemptive work, we never at any point discover ourselves to be the Redeemer. God reveals to us that our own power to bring about any of this God-life at every step is both wanting and impotent.

As we come to understand this distinction between our will and our power, I think that it becomes our responsibility to leverage it on our ministry philosophies, our programs, and other ministry means. My guess is that we have a lot of programs that masquerade as operating only by the fuel of God's power and the additive of our choice... but, in reality, are operating by human power.

How many churches and church programs have such a short shelf life for this very reason?

Big Church

2007-08-09T00:39:00.000-05:00

I gave a tour today to a new employee of our church. She is taking over some administrative responsibilities for our musical worship area, which I am currently and interimly supervising. I thought that it might help her administrative understanding if she was able to see all of the different parts that go into producing a worship service at our church. I figured that if she could see the big picture and how all of the pieces fit, it would bring to life some of the more mundane but critical administrative functions that are necessary to support it.

As I was giving her the tour, I realized: there are a lot of pieces.

It's a huge undertaking to produce a service in a big church. We have a digital board that mixes sound in the house, along with a large analog board that mixes the monitors on stage. We have a top-of-the-line computer with several monitors that runs the three projectors, managing slides and video. We have another board dedicated to running all of the house, spot, and intelligent lights. And those are the things that are back in the sound room.

We have a video room that manages three live and human-operated video cameras in the house. It also manages the switch between live video and character generation. There are more monitors, flat screens, and TV's in there than you could shake a stick at. Above the video room is another room housing all of our amplifiers, breakers, and a sequencer for turning it all on and off. There's also a big rack of something in there for which I can't even guess its function.

We have a catwalk that extends the width of the worship center on which thousands of dollars of lights hang, and on which countless feet of power and other cable traverse. We have a stage that can (and has) house an entire high school band, with imputs galore.

Millions of dollars are invested in that facility. Thousands of man-hours are required to operate and maintain it.

I mean, I knew that it was "big." But, in giving this tour today, I realized even more: this is one big, complicated, complex thing that happens every week.

I'm tempted here to do some sort of evaluation of it. But I'm not going to. Right now, I'm still somewhat in awe of just how big the whole thing is... and I'm content to leave it at that.

[God's] Timing [is everything]

2007-07-31T09:31:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I get frustrated at my own youth. Because sometimes being young means being right at the wrong times, and therefore means being right in the wrong way.

Let me illustrate. You know that old phrase: "You can take a horse to water, but you can't make him drink"? Fifty bucks says that someone over the age of 50 coined that phrase. No way was it coined by a 26-year-old male... I'd bet on that.

Now, the 26-year-old male might understand what that phrase means in principle, and perhaps would even be able to use it correctly in a sentence or apply it appropriately to a situation. BUT, that truth has yet to be internalized and burned on his heart and mind... burned by years of experience and the wisdom that comes from it.

That phrase about a thirsty horse has embedded within it a very scriptural, spiritual truth: only God knows how and when to give those thirsty for him a drink. It could be quite obvious to anyone that what they are thirsty for is God or something of God, but until God has them where they need to be such that they are willing and able to take long, satisfying draughts of his presence and mission... well, like the phrase says, you just can't make them drink.

Now, this truth and the reality of it should inform the 26-year-old male about how he should operate. It really should. But, truth be told, sometimes the young man fails to make adjustments to the way he is operating, mainly because he is young and therefore stupid and willful at times. He learns, but only after his God treats him in the same manner as He is treating other thirsty people. As the young man sees God's impeccable timing in the lives of those he is ministering to and with, he begins to realize that what he himself is thirsty for is humility. And God in His faithfulness (and in His humor, I surmise), has uniquely positioned the young man to take some difficult but satisfying gulps.

The body of Christ is unique. One part is able to tend to another only with humility and gentleness, attuned to the heart and mission of the Great Physician, because this is the only way that the Physician brings about true and lasting healing. Just like a doctor must be gentle and sure with the scalpel, having on his or her mind the weightiness and delicacy of the task before him or her, so also must we as members of one body have on our minds the weightiness and delicacy of the task before us: tending to the needs of one another. And loving one another, while it is expressed through a variety of means and for a variety of purposes, is always properly prescribed with an appropriate amount of gentleness and humility, patience and longsuffering. If it is not, then it is not the love of Christ.

Scripture Speaks (and doesn't need our help)

2007-07-29T10:07:00.000-05:00

The difference between the two is startling. On the one hand, one can preach by coming up with a mandate (compatible with the Bible or not), and then go to the Bible in search of support for it. On the other hand, one can preach by coming up with a question or an issue, and then looking to see what the Bible mandates about it... if anything at all. And yes, there is a dramatic difference between the two "hands."

Let's back up, and perhaps get a little foundation as to why there is such a dramatic difference between the two approaches to preaching. There are a few core doctrines, or things that we believe to be true, about the nature of the Bible. Let's take a look.

To begin with, we believe the Bible to be the "Word of God." Unfortunately, that phrase is used so often that it's almost become a surname of the Bible, losing the significance of its meaning in common speech. Suffice it to say, we believe that God--the real and living God--really communicates to us today through the words that are written on the pages of the Bible.

But let's dig a little deeper than that. How exactly have we come to this conclusion that the Bible is the real word of the real God? Well, we believe that He inspired it--we believe that He was in a supernatural and intimate relationship with the many authors and editors of the many books of the Bible. We believe that He interacted with real human beings in real faith communities across time periods and cultures, working through their uniquely human personalities and perspectives, to cement the timeless truths about who He is and how He interacts with His beloved people. Inspiration was the mechanism by which the Bible claims to be the Word of the One Who Inspires.

God inspired faith communities through His real Spirit. This Spirit now illumines us, or makes the truths cemented in the Bible effective in our minds and hearts. Picture it this way: God turns on the "lightbulb over our heads" as we encounter His truth in the Bible. It's that "Ah hah!" moment where a truth is integrated into our very lives. We believe that the truth of the Bible, our belief in it, and our obedience to it (see the entry entitled "faith") to be spiritually transformative. As we encounter it, as the Spirit illumines us to it, as we believe it, and as we obey it... we become more and more like the Word himself, Jesus.

So those are the doctrines of Scripture--that's what we as evangelical Christians believe it to be, and that's how we believe God uses it to work in our lives. So, back to where we began. In light of these truths, how are we to share this Word? How are we to teach it? To preach it? To use it in conversation?

Well, when we go to share, teach, or preach it, we have to remind ourselves that that this Word is effective in and of itself. There is a real God whose real Spirit really interacts with real people, and really illumines them to the effective truths in the Bible. And while He might use us as tools in this process (or He might not!), make no mistake: He is the one who does it, and does it with our without us.

(A little aside: as you read that, what's your first reaction? Are you jumping to defend the need to explain it? The need to study and understand it rightly? The need to preach it faithfully? Careful. While all of those things are good and have their respective place, their respective place is not first and foremost. What is first and foremost is God and His truth that He effects in the lives of those He has created and loved. It's important that we keep the right order.)

When it comes right down to it, the thing that "makes" this truth effective in the lives of those who read and hear it is God's Spirit. One can preach, teach, and share with great conviction and emotion, and should do so appropriately. But it is not the teacher or preacher who is the catalyst. It is God's Spirit Who Is the catalyst. The preacher and teacher does not make a Scripture "relevant;" it already is relevant. We have already sinned, and we stand here and now in need of a Savior. This is objectively and already true for all of us. And the Spirit already stands ready to illumine us to our objective reality. He has already inspired the biblical authors to communicate this truth.

So as we discover this truth in the Bible as we read and study it, and as we allow the Spirit to illumine us to it, it becomes imprinted on our hearts. As we let the Bible speak its redemptive message to us first, we are able to preach and teach faithfully and effectively. As we rediscover these truths over and over again through a vibrant connection with God's Spirit, we communicate them with the Spirit's power. We don't need new ways to communicate old ideas; we need the Spirit to awaken our hearts to the beauty and power of God's timeless truth.

Let's go to God's Word with our questions and let the Spirit answer us, instead of using God's Word to support our own answers. And let's preach and teach in such a way that we encourage people to encounter the living God by his living Spirit through his living Word... instead of handing them our boiled-down, simplified, relevantly-packaged version of it.

God First?

2007-07-23T12:38:00.000-05:00

What do we mean when we say things like "Put God first" or "Make Jesus central?" How does one "put" God anywhere? How does one "make" Jesus do anything?

Of course, we have very good intentions when we communicate by using phrases like those above. We mean something along the lines of obey God, be pious, go to church, read your Bible, and other things surrounding a devotional life... or a life devoted to God.

But good intentions assumed and aside, the language we use to communicate the need for a devotional and devoted life is very, very telling. What does this language tell us about ourselves and about our perception of the life devoted to God? It tells us that we, by and large, think that the God-devoted life is completely and utterly up to us being devoted to it.

That's a mouthful. Better stated: We've got the cart ahead of the horse, so much so that we think that we're the horse, instead of passengers in the cart.

Let's expand that metaphor a bit. As we're using it here, the Trinity is the horse, and we're passengers in his cart. Just as a cart can not get where it needs to go without the horse, so also are we stuck in our sin and death without God's Son, Jesus. This is our reality. This reality begins with God. God is. His name, Yahweh, I AM, says just that. Without him there is nothing; without him we are nothing.

But when we say "Put God first" or "Make Jesus the center", it's almost as though we're jumping past the truth that God is first already, before and whether or not we recognize it. It's almost as though we're forgetting that Jesus is already the center, before and whether or not we read about him or pray to him daily.

Isn't this just semantics? Isn't this just a different way of saying the same thing? No, I don't believe that it is. I think the Jews would have laughed at a phrase like "Put God first"... at least the pre-Pharisaical Jews would have. To them, God was first, whether in times of obedience and blessing, or in times of disobedience and discipline. God was real to them, whether they obeyed him or not. His presence was rarely assumed or manufactured. You can say what you want to about how they responded, Most of what the Jews did (or didn't do) was in response to God and the reality of his presence.

Likewise, I think Paul and the early Christian church would have balked at a phrase like "Make Jesus the center of your life." For them, Jesus was the center of their lives, whether or not they always lived like it. To be clear, they did want to live as if Jesus was the center, but that was not the same as making Jesus the center. It was recognizing that Jesus was the center, experiencing him and his Spirit, and then living in response to that recognition.

Let me put it another way. John Ortberg writes,

"What causes incongruence in my life is spending so much of my life unaware of [God's] presence. I allow myself to act and talk in ways that are not shaped or influenced by God's constant presence."

He illustrates the above statement with this example:

"I recently visited the Christian college I attended, and I was remembering the odd game we played in the cafeteria. As we sat down to eat, we would all surreptitiously put our thumbs up, and whoever was the last one at the table to get his thumb up had to offer the prayer over the food.

Now, think about that! God is watching this the whole time. But we're sticking our thumbs up, and the loser has to pray. Then we bow our heads and say, 'Dear God, thanks for this food and we love you so much.'

God is present the whole time, but we were acting as if he's not paying attention until we bow our heads and close our eyes; then he picks up the phone and we're connected. But we act as if the thumb stuff escapes his notice."

Live your life, speak your words, and do what you do as if God were present with you. Because He is.

Are we aware?

How Do I Tell You

2007-07-16T23:29:00.000-05:00

How do I tell you
That God is both real and present
And that is where to begin and end?
How can I persuade you
That you need to start there
And there you should never move beyond?
How can I convince you
That awareness of Him is what you really seek
When your eyes look right past Him
Or upon Him refuse to gaze?

How do I tell you
That contemplation leads to clarity
And reflection to relevance?
How can I explain
That being present with God comes first
And always before speaking in God's name?
How will you see
That God has just as much to say about His means
As he does about His mission?

How do I tell you?

By being patient,
By being gentle,
By being faithful,
By being courageous,
By being a servant,
By being rejected,
By persevering,
By keeping in step with the Spirit,
By looking always and never away at God,
By dying to myself,
So that Christ can live in me.
My loss is your gain,
My death is your life.

Sweet Jesus, give me the grace to die.

A Prayer

2007-06-26T14:12:00.000-05:00

God the Father:

Gracefully grant me a heart of flesh;
Without it I am calloused to Your Ways.
Gracefully grant me eyes of faith;
Without them I am blind to Your Moves.
Gracefully grant me an attitude of humility;
Without it I am a danger to my brothers and sisters--Your Children.
Gracefully grant me a gentle spirit;
Without it I am violent towards all those You bring into my path.
Gracefully grant me a quiet mind;
Without it I am lost in the noise of life.
This I request in the name of Your Son Jesus,
And at the behest of Your Holy Spirit.
Amen.

I'm Like Jonah (an aside from Without Love)

2007-06-19T14:34:00.001-05:00

If I am supposed to live a life of "a long obedience in the same direction," I fall miserably short.

Instead, I'm like Jonah: short spurts of obedience, mainly begrudgingly, couched by a series of disobediences, mainly involving self-righteous judgment.

"The word of the LORD came to Jonah son of Amittai: 'Go to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it, because its wickedness has come up before me.' But Jonah ran away from the LORD and headed for Tarshish. He went down to Joppa, where he found a ship bound for that port. After paying the fare, he went aboard and sailed for Tarshish to flee from the LORD."
Jonah 1:1-3

Not much of an introduction... pretty much straight to the point. God told Jonah not to be the deliverer of judgment, but to be a messenger of a merciful (yet stern) warning to Israel's sworn enemy, the violent empire Assyria. And Jonah responded immediately--not verbally, but with his posture--he ran the other way. No way. Not me. If it was a message of judgment, then yes, sign me up. Those people don't deserve anything but divine retribution for what they are doing. Let them reap the fruits of what those idiots continue to sow. Mercy and love be damned. What they need is a good punch in the face, not a slap on the wrist.

And that was my attitude, to a certain extent, toward those in my context. I came, I saw, I judged, and my posture reflected my attitude. To be honest, I'm still tempted to go there. Every time I see pure, unabashed copying of another church. Every time I see excellence held above authenticity. Every time I see strategy in front of relationship, the individual life above the common life, the churched life above the missional life, what we do in God's name above what God is already doing for his name.

And my self-righteousness swells within me. How dare they? Don't they understand? Ministry is serious! It must be protected! It must be pure! We must have a clear understanding of an order of things, lest we let the secondary reign supreme and derail us!

And, subtlely but intentionally, my message turns from a repentant invitation to a crushing (and arrogant) judgment: "If they don't listen to me, then let them be damned. Go ahead and wallow in your anxious drivenness. See where it gets you. See what God thinks of all that."

I'm Jonah. I've made God into an angry zealot, and when He comes to whisper to me that indeed He is not that (or, more accurately, he is not only that), and oh, by the way, go warn those folks to change, because I love them, I respond to him like Jonah--not with words, but with my posture: No.

Some make God into an angry zealot for the sake of religious rules--an easily challenged and discarded cause. But others make God into an angry zealot for the sake of "the glory of His name," or "authentic worship," or other such modern-day Puritanic aims--a cause that is much more difficult to challenge. We desperately seek to turn God's message to people--people whom God pursues to the grave--from a loving warning to a vengeful judgment. But a warning without love is really a judgment in disguise, for pride has yet to be eradicated.

And God knows this. God has been dealing with human pride as long as humans have walked his earth. He must root it out, lest his messengers and ministers deliver a respective message and ministry that proports to be in God's name... but is, in reality, devoid of His power, and even worse, deviated from His aim.

With pride, there is no room for love.

And without love, your message and ministry are worth nothing. Growing or shrinking, unified or fragmented, clear or muddy, without love, it has no eternal substance, becuase it is disconnected from the energizing and effective love of God.

Back to Jonah: God has chosen his messenger, and uses the necessary means (namely: a great fish) to bring Jonah into submission to what he already knew, and yet chose to run from. And when faced with this reality--that God was indeed giving him a second chance to obey, despite his brash disobedience--Jonah repents and embraces the loving warning. And so he goes.

And wouldn't you know it--those people who were beyond repenting, who would never change, who would never get it, who can only understand violence and its consquences--those people heeded God's loving warning. They actually apprehended God's love for them, understood that he chose to warn rather than to judge, saw their sin for what it was, and turned from it.

And Jonah hated that.

Again, I am like Jonah. I have experienced that initial repentance, and have seen my sin in my desire to deliver a judgment rather than a loving warning. And now that I've delievered the loving warning, and now that the recipients are heeding it... I'm a little mad. Maybe even disappointed.

Isn't that sick? It is! It's terrible--a blight on the very mercy on which I rely.

Continue to convict me, Lord. I am unworthy to spread your message. I am sinful beyond comprehension. Let my story not end like that of Jonah's.

Without Love, Pt. 2

2007-06-18T10:59:00.001-05:00

Previously in my entry entitled "Without Love, Pt. 1," I came to the conclusion that as we cultivate this interior life founded on and fueled by the gracious love of God--expressed mainly in the death of his wonderful Son Jesus, and mediated by the effective and ongoing work of His Holy Spirit in us--we discover both God's mission in the world and the means to accomplish it.

That's a mouthful. But it can be put simply put. First:

God is real and alive and present and moving. He is moving according to His mission: to eradicate sin from the face of His world by the blood of his Son Jesus, and to establish a new (yet ancient!) way of living under Jesus' kingship among his new subjects--you and me--who have consented to being loved by King Jesus. Second:

We discover this mission--how else?--as we spend time with God. Yep. Turns out that spending time with God isn't really for us; it's for Him. Our own personal benefit from these times of devotion with Him are only a byproduct of discovering and living out His mission. This is what it means to cultivate an interior life with God--to treat Him as a person who communicates, moves, and directs through His Word, His Church, and His Divine Spirit. And third:

GOD DOES NOT STOP HIS COMMUNICATION WITH US AFTER COMMUNICATING HIS MISSION TO US. He does not say: "Go and make disciples of my Son Jesus... any old way you want to." Turns out He has something to say about our means of accomplishing his mission.

And by the way: it's not our mission to accomplish. It's HIS mission that HE will accomplish, with or without us. Yes, He is capable of doing it. He's God, the Author of All that Is. And we would do well to remind ourselves of that daily, and contrary to the temptation to come to the conclusion that the ministry of the Holy Spirit would come to a screeching halt without us.

But back to point #3: God has a lot to say about how we go about making disciples, building community, worshipping, etc. Take Christ's temptation, for example, as treated by Henri Nouwen in
In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership. Satan tempted Jesus not on issues of mission, but on issues of means. First, he tempted Jesus to be relevant, i.e., to prove his power by turning stones into bread:

The tempter came to him and said, "If you are the Son of God, tell these stones to become bread."
(Matthew 4:3)

Jesus responds by remaining irrelevant, meaning that he did not fall to the temptation to use his own power to manufacture the desired result. He did not seek to take God's rightful place of Sustainer and Provider, and says as much in his response:

Jesus answered, "It is written: `Man does not live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.' "
(Matthew 4:4)

So Satan comes at him again, this time tempting Jesus to be spectacular--to prove his own worth to himself and others by his own accomplishments:

Then the devil took him to the holy city and had him stand on the highest point of the temple. "If you are the Son of God," he said, "throw yourself down. For it is written:
" `He will command his angels concerning you,
and they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.' "
(Matthew 4:5-6)

But Jesus refuses, and remains anchored to his humble position as One submitted to God, and one in solidarity as a servant among humanity:

Jesus answered him, "It is also written: `Do not put the Lord your God to the test.' "
(Matthew 4:7)

Finally, Satan pulls out all the stops and goes to the very thing that caused he himself to fall: the temptation to be powerful. Satan knows that we are capable of paying a lot of lipservice to building God's kingdom, but often our means of accomplishing that goal are such that we are building our own little empire (see entry entitled "Crystal Cathedral;" see also "Lakewood Church"... and if you really wanna dig, even look up "Focus on the Family"), we end up utilizing God's name for our brand. Note Satan's attempt:

Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. "All this I will give you," he said, "if you will bow down and worship me."
(Matthew 4:8-9)

But Jesus didn't come to become powerful. Jesus' power rested in his humility, submission, and radical obedience to his Father with whom he was intimately connected. He didn't need the power of the world and the influence it offered to accomplish his mission. He just needed 12 guys for three years and a cross. That's it. And he knew it. So Jesus responds:

Jesus said to him, "Away from me, Satan! For it is written: `Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.' "
(Matthew 4:10)

Jesus didn't strategize about how to "take this message" to the world. Rather, he simply lived it out, even unto his death, all the while teaching about and modeling this life to the twelve who chose to leave their lives and follow him.

Means and mission are intimately connected in Jesus' recorded life. He had to continually clarify his mission as well as continually police the suggested means for accomplishing it (remember the story of the "Sons of Thunder," the mockery of the suggestion to "come down from the cross," and the repeated injunctions of the Pharisees to return to moralism? Means come up an awful lot!)

And the importance of means are not only restricted to the story of Jesus! Remember the story of David, in which he had repeated opportunities to take the life of his murderous pursuer Saul (1 Sam. 24, 26)? He refused to do so on both accounts, in the name of God, putting his faith in the fact that God would remove Saul by His own means when He saw fit. We see the same theme again in 2 Sam. 7, where David seeks to build a temple for God, but God puts a stop to the whole thing... simply because he hadn't directed David to do so.

You see, there is a position that God seeks to occupy--no, that He does occupy. God is primary and preveniant. He acts first, then we do. If our means do not recognize this reality, and (more importantly) if they do not cause others to recognize this reality, then we might be taking people somewhere... but it's not closer to God.

Again: the temptation is to become the Primary Mover in the name of the Primary Mover. But cultivating a love for the Primary Mover will simultaneously cultivate a hatred towards the desire to take His place.

Without Love, Pt. 1

2007-06-14T15:21:00.000-05:00

It's a staggering statement, really:

"If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love."
1 Corinthians 13:1-7, from the Message

I think this passage is staggering for several reasons. First, I am hit over the head with this stark reality: love is not a prerequisite for ministerial success. It isn't... at least, when we understand ministerial success in the most commonly accepted terms: growth and decline.

Now, I wish that love was a prerequisite for a growing, successful ministry--it'd make more sense to me if it was. It'd make more sense to me if the only way a ministry could grow was if it was founded in and flowing out of Christ's love. It'd make more sense to me to use the "love gage" as the indicator of why the "mountains are moving" in your ministry. But in reality, the "love gage" isn't necessarily a reliable indicator... and usually, it's not even the first place that we look.

The (unfortunate) fact of the matter is this: you can be "successful," as it is most commonly understood in Christian ministry, without love. You can speak eloquently and powerfully, motivating and inspiring people in Christian living, without the aid of love. You can accomplish amazing things in church--and even label them with God's name--fueled only by a very human drive to succeed, and without any Divine Charity. Excellent and gripping music, inspiring sermons from the stage, perfectly administrated staff, organized and growing programs, swelling weekend attendance, bigger buildings, and most other church means and ends can all be accomplished without the love of Jesus. Even social action in the lives of "the least of these," a central teaching and commandment of Jesus, can be done without his love.

Loving and the achievement of ministry goals are not equivalent. The reality of ministerial success does not presuppose the reality of love. Right living, in and of itself, does not need or assume love. You can be successful in ministry, by the most commonly accepted definition of the term "success," without being loving.

(Sidenote: that's downright scary, isn't it? Even more frightening is this: sometimes it's very difficult to discern when a church, a ministry, a program, a musical worship set, a prayer, a strategy, or a philosophy is not operating out of Christ's love. And perhaps most frightening is this: even when one is able to discern someone or something that is not operating out of Christ's love, it's very difficult to awaken that someone or something to that fact. More on that later.)

Second, this passage is staggering for the completely opposite reason: Christ's love is not a guarantee of ministerial success. You can be connected to his love and flop at what you have planned. You can embody his love and fail and what you set out to do. It's possible that a loving church can be a declining church. In fact, in today's church culture, it's almost probable--people want to be a part of what is "successful," by most accounts... and if your church is loving but not successful, it's not surprising to see attendance decline as people leave your church for another. One famous evangelical speaker and author puts it this way: "People like to win." But note Jesus' words from John 5:41-44:

“I’m not interested in crowd approval. And do you know why? Because I know you and your crowds. I know that love, especially God’s love, is not on your working agenda. I came with the authority of my Father, and you either dismiss me or avoid me. If another came, acting self-important, you would welcome him with open arms. How do you expect to get anywhere with God when you spend all your time jockeying for position with each other, ranking your rivals and ignoring God? "

The cure for ministerial failure isn't always love; Christ's love may have been there all along. Crowds are fickle, especially the mega-churched types. Love isn't the foundation or shield for successful church endeavors. One does not love so that one can succeed in ministry. One does not love so that one can grow a ministry.

Now, perhaps a purist might say to all of this: "All of this can be resolved if we simply redefine what success in ministry really is." Sounds good, and even righteous... but it's a little naive. You see, it's not wholly wrong to say that something is successful because it is growing and thriving, nor is it wholly wrong to say that something is failing because it is shrinking and losing steam. Growth (or the lack thereof) can be validly used as both a goal and evaluator of ministry success, at least to some degree. There are such things as "measurable goals" in ministry that are not simply constrained to "loving." The use of the terms "success" and failure" can remain attached to many of their commonly understood meanings without fear of necessarily infringing on the need for love.

And that's just the point: the reality of Christ's love and the need for it stands independent of the presence of ministry success and/or failure. Ministerial success and/or failure is a faulty indicator of the reality of Christ's love in the life of the minister, pastor, or lay leader, and vice versa. We need to resist the temptation to come to any sort of reliable conclusion about the state of someone's soul by looking at the state of what they are doing in ministry. We need to stand against the desire to equate (and consequently, to conflate) the two. In turn, we also need to refrain from compartmentalizing the two as well. I mean, it's not as though Christ's love has nothing to do with a person's ministerial success, and it just might be the case that the absence of Christ's love has something to do with someone's failure in ministry. Nevertheless, we should avoid equating the two.

So in light of all of this, and so that this has not all been said in vain, we must ask ourselves: what do we do?

First: we must remember the "why" of God's love--we must keep Jesus' love and the need for it at the forefront of our hearts and minds, and superior to our desire to be "successful" in ministry. We are, and will forever be, in need of God's love. We need God's love for the salvation of our souls. We need God's love for the receiving and living of Jesus' life, energized by the Holy Spirit--theologically refered to as "regeneration," "sanctification," "redemption," "reconciliation," and a host of other "-tions." The effects of this God-life, in its true and eternally transforming nature, can never be manufactured by ministers... though we may portray ourselves as having the ability (and even the responsibility!) to dole it out. We need to intentionally devote ourselves to the spiritual practices and disciplines that remind us of these truths.

An important aspect of this first consideration is this: God is always primary, and we are always secondary. God first moved; now we can move. God first loved; now we can love (1 John 4:19). And not only that, but this: God continues to move; we simply respond (Gal. 5:25). God continues to love us; our love flows from this fountain. Remembering the "why" of God's love reminds us of our place in God's kingdom and kingdom advancement. We don't create something that wasn't already there; we simply live out the Someone Who now lives in us.

How do we "do" this first consideration--how to we remember the "why" of God's love? There are many ways, mostly involving the spiritual disciplines. Read. Contemplate. Meditate. Be silent. Listen. Retreat. Let the Spirit of God burn the Word of God on your heart and impart the life of Jesus to you. And don't simply do these disciplines and practices alone; do them with fellow Jesus-followers (Col. 3:16; 1 Thes. 5:11; Heb. 3:13-14; 10:24-25; 1 Pet. 1:22-23). It is as we do these things, and the things that flow out of them, that we experience true fellowship--koinonia--with one another (Acts 2:42).

As we cultivate this interior life--this way of being that is founded on and flows out of God's love for us--we will become more clearly aware of his mission and his means for accomplishing it.

That bears repeating: as we cultivate this interior life of love, we will become more clearly aware of God mission AND his means for accomplishing it. We don't just discover God's mission and then execute our own cleverly planned means for accomplishing it. We journey with the Spirit to discover both the mission and the means.

Which leads me to part 2.

Consciences and Convictions

2007-05-21T16:30:00.000-05:00

I recently took a lot of time to respond to an email from someone who had asked: What is the Bible really saying when it talks about "not offending people" and "not causing them to stumble?" I think that this would be a great place to store my response, if only so I don't ever have to create it again:

I think the passage that you're referring to comes from Romans 14. There's also another related passage in 1 Corinthians 8. These passages are probably two of the most misused passages n the New Testament (and this misuse is often referred to as "prooftexting"--incorrectly using a passage of Scripture to prove one's own point of view). In order for us to properly understand it and apply it, we have to understand the context and the flow of Paul's argument. Let's start in Romans.

The context is this: Paul is writing to the Roman church, which is made up of both Jewish and Greek people, with people from both groups on various ends of the faith spectrum--some new, and some mature. Kinda like any local church. So, beginning in verse 1, he states his message: STOP PASSING JUDGMENT ON DISPUTABLE MATTERS. Not "it's your job make a correct judgment in disputable matters" or "judge disputable matters by this set of personal convictions" or "here's how I personally stand on some of the ambiguities in dressing, eating, and drinking... use these as your guidelines." Everything ties back to Paul's command to us: stop considering it your Christian duty to transform disputable matters into "right and wrong" behaviors. Ironically, a lot of times, Christians use this passage in exactly the way that Paul was condemning (vv. 1-4).

What is Paul's reasoning for this command? 1) There is such a thing as personal convictions on disputable matters (vv. 5-6); 2) those convictions need to remain personal--a person should not attempt to make their personal convictions universal (v. 5b; v. 22a; indeed, these convictions inform our consciences--more on that later!); 3) each person is responsible to the Lord, and to Him only, concerning his or her own set of personal convictions on disputable matters (v. 6); and finally 4) we're all saved by Jesus anyways, so regardless of our personal convictions about disputable matters, when it comes down to it, we're all dead without Jesus and alive with him (vv. 9-12). In other words, you aren't "more saved" or in "better standing" because of your own particular set of personal convictions. The strictest of the Christian teetotalers is very much in the same objective standing with Jesus as the most liberal of the Christian social drinkers: each of them is saved only by the grace of Jesus.

Okay, great. But what exactly is Paul talking about when he refers to "stumbling" (v. 20) and even "falling" (v. 21)? Well, in the immediate context (vv. 19-21), Paul is referring to convictions about eating and drinking. Paul talks about a similar theme in 1 Cor. 8, centering completely around food being sacrificed to idols. In both places, he refers to the faith of those who have a set of personal convictions about abstaining from such foods as "weak" (Rom. 14:1-2; 1 Cor. 8:7-12). So, before we can get to the root of what Paul means by stumbling in falling, we must establish: how does Paul extrapolate from a person's set of "abstaining" personal convictions to a judgment about their faith being weak?

Well, if we go back to point #2 in the 'reasoning' paragraph above, we can see the connection between our personal convictions and our consciences. Our personal convictions do not remain static as we mature; they develop as our faith develops (as demonstrated in 1 Cor. 8:4-7). As I grow in my faith, I more clearly see what the actual boundaries of the Christian faith are--for example: the Trinity, the deity of Jesus, salvation by grace through faith, loving your neighbor as yourself, etc. In the same way, I more clearly see what are actually preferences within those boundaries. This distinction in turn helps me to better understand different perspectives, different interpretations, and different expressions which are all acceptable because they fall within the actual boundaries of Christianity... even when I come up against a particular expression of another mature Christian that does not match up with my own.

So, because my personal convictions develop along with my faith, so also does my conscience; I no longer experience conviction about a certain behavior like I once did, because my boundaries concerning what is "Christian" and what is not have been more broadly (yet more accurately) delineated. This is clearly demonstrated in I Cor. 8:4 and then later in 8:7--people who had matured in their faith had come to a knowledge about the real nature of food sacrificed to idols... but people who were not yet mature (who were still brand new!) had not yet come to that knowledge. And this is OK!! In fact, it has to be this way, because that is how people work--they go from infancy to maturity. As we mature in our knowledge, we mature in our convictions, which in turn matures our consciences. In this way, there is a subjectivity to what is sinful--what is sinful for one person to do may not be sinful for another, depending on their maturity level. In these matters, the objective standard is a subjective conscience. If the Spirit is convicting you personally of something, you must personally respond to that conviction, and not base your response on whether or not someone else is being convicted in the same way.

With those last two paragraphs in mind, we can now more accurately see what Paul meant when he was talking about "stumbling" and "falling." These are very serious words indeed; I think the NIV translates the force of the word (it's translate it as "fall" in Rom. 14:21) better than the NASB (which translates it as "stumble" or "to make a misstep"); Paul uses the same word in Romans 9:32 to describe Israel's critical failure to recognize the importance of Christ's saving work in God's plan to save them. As mature believers, by asserting our knowledge and the "free-er", less-strict set of convictions that come about as a result of it, we can actually cause new believers who still have a "weak" or infant faith to fall away! It could be devestating for a new believer who has just been saved out of alcoholism to see a group of his fellow church-goers get a little tipsy at a home gathering. Likewise, it could be fatal for a new believer who has just been redeemed from a depraved, depressed "Emo" style of life to head out to a "Killers" concert with a group of his newfound Christian friends. While it may not be wrong for mature believers to get a little tipsy at home or to go to a Killers concert (and actually, I kinda like "Emo" music), it certainly becomes wrong for them to do so when it concerns the faith of a brother or sister who has yet to mature. Thus, we must heed Paul's warnings in these scenarios (Rom. 14:13-15; 1 Cor. 8:9-13).

And yet, all of this must be done with Paul's first command in mind: mature Christians should not waste their time by deciding whose personal convictions on disputable matters are "right," and whose are "wrong." Those matters must remain disputable, and mature Christians must learn to interact with each other lovingly despite the dispute. Such arguments about disputable matters have no place in a maturing life in Christ. Morever, we should not transform Paul's warning about causing weak, infant believers to stumble into living by the most conservative set of convictions in an effort to avoid offending anyone. In fact, we should stand against those mature Christians who wish to stretch Paul's warning to include their own set of abstentions (see especially Paul's command in Rom. 14:16)!

Rather than focus on what can only be subjectively true for some of us, we should focus on what is objectively true for all of us: we are all dead without Jesus, and alive in him (Rom. 14:9-12; 1 Cor. 8:6).

God to His Church?

2007-05-20T11:59:00.000-05:00

I've been reflecting on this experiential and subjective truth for a little while: for me, it usually takes about 3 years or so before I feel like I have a good handle on where I'm at and what I'm doing and how I fit into it all. It also takes about 3 years or so for people to feel the same way about me: like they have a pretty good handle on who I am, what I am equipped to do, and how I fit. It generally takes about 3 years for a healthy amount of credibility to be built, such that I can operate freely and appropriately.

So after just under a year at my present location, I am hesitant to come to any sort of firm conclusions about this place. Nevertheless, the "data" that I've collected so far pushes me toward 4 initial and interrelated impressions of my current church:

1. We forsake the "now" for the "later." Be it in the name of "planning for growth," or in the name of "being a good steward of where God wants to 'take' us," we are always looking ahead... often times at the expense of what is happening right now. Maybe more accurately, we do not gather data from the "now" and use it to help determine where God is "taking" us.

2. We fail to critique our own culture. Pragmatism and "relevance" are often our main standards; other standards we use to critique what we are doing and who we are submit to those two. Do people seem to be coming? Do they "like" it? Did we like the look and feel? Does it look like what we'd see on TV, or at a big church, or in a magazine? To be sure, these are all fair and necessary considerations... but they should not be primary. They should be secondary. But when they are primary, the result is dissonance. We have given our people as many looks and feels to a weekend worship experience as there are weekends in a year, namely because our standards are anything but static and grounded in long-proven and life-giving goals. When you critique first by pragmatism and relevance, your goals--and not just your expressions of them--will be everchanging.

3. We forsake going on our own journey, and choose instead to imitate where others have gone. This is another fine line, but a line it is indeed. I'm glad that it is possible and that we are encouraged to look at what other churches are doing; we are indeed one church, and it is both edifying and helpful to see what God is doing in other local expressions of his unity. Nevertheless, each local expression is unique, and requires a unique and authentic connection with God and his unique desires for that church's unique setting and people. Again, it's a matter of order--the connection to God and what He has for this local setting should be primary, and all ideas from other churches--no matter how successful they might be in their own respective locations--should be secondary. It might very well be the case that what is considered personal in a city of 5 million is considered impersonal in a community of 150,000. This is just one example of how important it is for local pastors to have a healthy connection to what God's unique heart is for their particular setting, and for those pastors to protect and use it as the standard by which they evaluate and incorporate new ideas.

4. We fail to be present in the moment. Everything is about "the next step." Even in relationships. Most often there is little room for mess or weakness, which means there is little room for vulnerability and authenticity, which means there is little room for real relationship. We are do-ers, and we are driven to succeed, and doggone it, we can't let our weaknesses as people get in the way. Trouble is, we usually lose connection with how God is present in weakness, even working to bring it about, in the hopes of saving our souls as we grow in our awareness of our dependence on him. And so, in the name of soul-saving, we lose our own.

And that's what I think, at this time, God is saying to his church here.

Not By Me, But By You

2007-05-20T11:49:00.001-05:00

I still wonder: will there ever be a day when I operate fully as a life that proceeds from Yours?

I still wonder: is that our goal? Do we have imprinted onto our hearts and minds what that life looks like?

And I still wonder: am I willing to let Him use me here in the meantime?

Not by me, Lord, but only by You will we begin to fully live life out of Your Life. Break me of my prideful attitude, of my resistant spirit, and my hardened heart toward those who don't seem to "get it." For in hardening my heart, I have lost the very thing You desire to give all of us.

And continue to break me.

Putting the World at Risk

2007-05-02T14:15:00.000-05:00

"The Christian is a witness to a new reality that is entirely counter to culture. The Christian faith is a proclamation that God's kingdom has arrived in Jesus, a proclamation that puts the world at risk. What Jesus himself proclaimed and we bear witness to is the truth that the sin-soaked, self-centered world is doomed.
Pastors are in charge of keeping the distinction between the world's lies and the gospel's truth clear. No one else occupies this exact niche that looks so inoffensive but is in fact so dangerous to the status quo. We are committed to keeping the proclamation alive and to looking after souls in a soul-denying, soul-trivializing age."
--Eugene Peterson, Unnecessary Pastor

There are three propositions in this short exerpt that jump off of the page and into my world here. First: the Christian is a witness to a new reality that is entirely counter to culture. Second: pastors are in charge of keeping this message distinct from the world in the way that it is by nature distinct from the world. And third: in so doing, we are caring for souls in a world that seeks to deny and trivialize it.

If we don't understand the first proposition, we can not possibly keep our charge to the second and third. Too few of us can apprehend and articulate exactly how the Christian message is entirely counter to our culture. We immediately jump to how the Christian message can fit into our culture, mostly in the name of relevancy. However, the fact of the matter is this: the gospel is relevant, apart from our packaging, by its very nature. We need Jesus. We needed him to die. We need him for his life. This is objectively true, and it is objectively true for all of us and apart from any of us. We don't "make" it true for us; it simply and already "is" true for us.

Yes, but how do we make it true for those who don't yet believe that?

By living it out. By living lives that demonstrate that we recognize this reality. By being people who are present to this reality at all times, whether at work, at play, in conversation, in devotion, in service, in planning... whatever. By living as people who are ever aware that they simply need Jesus, and then watching as the Spirit brings forth His fruit out of that realization, moving us to cooperate with his leading and guiding in our every day, earthy lives.

All of which flies in the face of what the above question presupposes: that it's our job to somehow "make God true" for others, perhaps in the name of "relevancy." However, God is already true for everyone; he is already present and already initiating. He actively desires for everyone to come to a personal knowledge of his saving intentions. For someone to not believe and accept that truth does not make it "not true" for them; it simply means that they are denying objective reality. Denying the truth does not make the truth "the truth no longer." It simply means that the person is in a state of denial.

Again, it's not our job to get someone to quit their denying by using all of the cultural bells and whistles with which they are all too familiar. Our job is simply to be reflections of the reality of a life that is infused by Christ's life and Spirit. It's amazing what the Spirit can do with a life that is simply a good reflection; a life that is very much a Jesus-image.

Perhaps that is one way in which the gospel is so counter to our culture--it proclaims a reality that is apart from our creating, apart from our effort, apart from our striving. It proclaims a kingdom we could never establish, much less build. This message alone is so fear- and anxiety-producing to us as self-made, driven, independent, capitalist, democratic people that even those of us who claim allegiance to or membership in this kingdom fail to comprehend its true nature and full message. And so we fail to comprehend: how can I gather my identity from something I didn't do? What place can I have in something that doesn't depend on me?

Implicit in almost all models that champion relevancy or business strategy is this temptation: it all comes down to me. We fail or succeed because of me, because of my ability to execute, because of my finger on the pulse, because of my anticipation, because of my plan, because of our facility, because of... etc. This is the world's message, and the church has believed and accepted it. And yet, we stand as people who need and will forever need Jesus--who have supposedly believed and accepted him and his message.

The schizophrenia of this state of being--of being people who have accepted and believed two mutually exclusive messages--is alarming. You don't know what to expect from day to day--will we be people who walk, talk, act, work, breathe, relate, pray, preach, sing, strategize, plan, review, and evaluate as people who know first and foremost that they simply need Jesus? Or, will we walk, talk, act, work, breath, relate, pray, preach, sing, strategize, plan, review, and evaluate as people who need to succeed at Jesus' mission for him? Or even still, will we be people who think that the two--simply needing Jesus, and needing to succeed by the world's means--are compatible, and not at all mutually exclusive?

The means of the world deny and trivialize the soul. Performance reviews apart from relationship trivialize the soul. Technology above authenticity denies the soul. Process above people denies the soul. And an unwillingness to wrestle with how these tensions play out in practice--whether it is in the name of busyness, personality, or priorities--trivializes the soul.

There are plenty of "ministry means" that are actually wolves in sheep's clothing.

Local Little Lasting Things

2007-04-22T14:45:00.000-05:00

I emulate very few men. But one of those men would have to be Eugene Peterson.

Everytime I read what he has written about life, ministry, pastoring, or church, I feel a deep resonation in my soul, as if it is saying, "Yes... this is what it's supposed to be like. This is what we should expect. This is how we should go about it. This is what we should ascribe to and shoot for."

One of the things that he says concerns the nature of local pastoral work. It can be summarized along these lines: usually, nothing that is worth anything happens quickly or on a large scale, at least at first. If it's worthy and valuable, it takes a long time to develop, and develops from a series of little things. Therefore, we should devote ourselves to doing little things well over the long haul.

I love that. I love that because it tears down this incredible burden to do big things with great gusto--mainly with our own planning, effort, and execution. I love that because it is in line with Jesus' teaching on the nature and growth of the kingdom of God. I love that because the little things over the long haul are not easily torn down--like a wall that is built stone by stone, brick by brick. I love that because the little things over the long haul don't bend to cultural expression; cultural expression must bend to them.

I love that because we can't always see the growth of little things over the long haul. I love that because when we do see the growth, it is a great privilege, because we are conscious of its growth apart from our striving. Something so beautiful and valuable and permanent certainly could not have come from us. I love that because when we do see the growth, we are allowed to see what a gift it is to participate with the Grower--to see things through his eyes, to become aware of his meticulousness and vision, to taste in his incredible patience, and to see how effective it is in the lives of those who respond to his pursuance.

Local, little, lasting things. That's the type of church and church work I want to do. It's people who value that whom I want to labor and play.

technology

2007-04-12T16:40:00.000-05:00

I've been reading this tiny book containing selections from Thomas Merton's writing. Here is a quote that I thought was rather appropriate for churches like mine who sometimes fail to turn a critical eye toward technology. It reads:

"This is no longer a time of systematic ethical speculation, for such speculation implies time to reason, and the power to bring social and individual action under the concerted control of reasoned principles upon which most men agree. There is no time to reason out, calmly and objectively, the moral implications of technical developments which are perhaps already superseded by the time one knows enough to reason about them."

"Action is not governed by moral reason but by political expediency and the demands of technology--translated into the simple abstract formulas of propoganda. These formulas have nothing to do with reasoned moral action, even though they may appeal to apparent moral values--they simply condition the mass of men to react in a desired way to certain stimuli."

I wonder how much of our worship services are just Christianized forms of manipulation--trying to get people to react in the desired way to certain stimuli. I wonder if many of us could articulate how the Spirit acts differently, much less articulate how we are to worship in light of the indwelling of the Spirit.

Face Your Death

2007-03-27T10:35:00.000-05:00

One of my previous posts was entitled "Relax, Adam." In it, Adam is running and hiding from reality--all the while being whispered to by the enemy to keep running, to keep hiding, for only in his running and hiding would he find solace. The point of that post is that we run and hide behind busyness, and our busyness masks our true selves--our broken, messy, confused selves.

But some of us are not busybodies. We don't wear the mask of busyness. Maybe it's because we apprehend busyness as a mask, so we don't put it on. Maybe it's because our situation just plain does not allow for busyness. Or, maybe it's because we're just plain lazy... who knows.

I fall into that boat--busyness is not a mask for me. I apprehend it as a mask, I can see others wearing it, and therefore refuse to put it on. I think I'm also a bit lazy, too. But really, I just hate feeling rushed--I hate the person that I become when I feel like I'm being rushed, and more often than not refuse to submit to a fast pace in the name of "getting things done." For me, the reward of feeling like I "accomplished" a lot is cheap compared to the richness of being immersed in the process, of being fully aware in moments.

I have other masks, however. I have other ways in which I keep my true self hidden--things I put on so that when I look into the mirror, I don't have to face who I truly am. One of which I am becoming increasingly aware of is the mask of "hiding."

I run and hide a lot. In concrete terms, it looks like not checking my phone messages, not returning a phone call, or not returning an email. The phone stands in condemnation over me as it blinks red for the fifth day in a row without me picking it up. The post-it notes stuck to my desk stand in judgment over me, each containing scribbles of the messages that I did check, but that were a week old by the time I did. The emails in my inbox mock me as some of them fall under the heading "two weeks ago" or "over a month ago."

Really, it's very simple: I apprehended certain responsibilities or conversations as being messy, boring, trite, challenging, or awkward, and I chose to run from them instead of facing them. Then I find myself having to continue to run, lest those people overtake me and I am revealed for the failure that I am.

I would be much better served to turn and let them all overtake me by admitting that I fall short. Perhaps this is part of what it means to deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow Christ. Perhaps I would fall--bruised, scraped, and cut, of course--right into his hands.

Being an Excellent Die-er

2007-03-20T09:12:00.000-05:00

Excellence honors God. This is the premise upon which so much of our ministry is based.

Excellence honors God.

It sounds enticing and amazing--giving us something for which to strive, a standard by which to judge our efforts, a goal that is to be ever before us. Excellence.

If we're excellent at our ministries, we're being good pictures and reflections of the excellent life with God. If we're excellent in our programs, we'll be attractive enough to instill religious interest in those who aren't religious. If we're excellent in our music, if we're excellent in our childrens' ministry, if we're excellent in student ministries, if we're excellent in our small groups, if we're... well... just plain excellent all the way around, we'll be... excellent. And then we can breathe a big sigh of relief because we did our job to the best of our ability, and that's what God wants of us, and what he's charged us with doing.

There's even some scriptural support for this philosophy. Not much... but some. Probably one of the most referred to passages in support of the "excellence philosophy" is Colossians 3:23-24, which says, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men, 24 since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving." Of course, if you back up one verse to verse 22, you will see that Paul is writing to slaves--literal slaves--and talking to them about how they are to serve their masters. True, there are principles in this passage that are applicable to us, but at the very least, the different contexts should caution us as we interpret. Working with one's whole heart for absolutely no recognition and little if any reward only for the sake of the soul of one's master who may or may not be treating you as a person is a little different than trying to make a worship service "cool."

In actuality, this verse highlights the chink in the armor of the excellence philosophy, which has now become one of the core doctrines of almost any growing church in America. The chink in the armor of the excellence philosophy rests on this question concerning the slaves to whom Paul is writing: At what must the slave be excellent, first and foremost? One would be tempted to say, "Well, the slave must be excellent at whatever the master had assigned him or her. Perhaps it was a clean house, or a growing crop, or well-prepared meals. As the slave becomes more and more excellent at these tasks, he or she will build credibility with the master, and perhaps the master will see the reason for the slave's excellence." But while this is certainly descriptive of the first thing that can be seen by the eyes--namely, excellence at remedial tasks--it completely misses where the excellence of the slave rests, first and foremost.

Think about the slave's condition. You get no credit for what you do, because it is merely your obligation. That is your economy. What's your five year plan? Doing the same tasks you did today. What are your measurable goals that will tell you if you're getting to where you want to be? Well, if you didn't get beat today, or your wife didn't get raped, or your child only had to work 12 hours and not 16, then it was a pretty good day.

Perhaps the light is starting to flicker on for some of us. In a condition like that, we can start to see that the slave has to be excellent at something else first before he or she can even possibly be motivated to do the tasks with his or her "whole heart."

In what must the slave first and foremost be excellent? It seems to be that the slave must be truly excellent at dying to himself, taking up his cross, and following Christ before he can be motivated to be excellent at his duties (Matt. 20:21-28 & Mk. 10:35-45; Lk. 17:5-10). This is the "transferrable principle" for our ministries here and now.

If the slave was not first excellent at dying to himself, taking up the cross of Christ, and obediently following him into what is a difficult, harsh, and unjust circumstance, his work would be all for nothing, for it would have absolutely no eternal value--either for him, or for his master. If all he did was read Paul's words in Colossians and try hard to do well "for Jesus," he would last only for a short time, for he would soon remember that his master shouldn't treat him like he does, that his work is worth fare more than just subsistence, and that his situation is comparatively unjust to most of his contemporaries. He would soon discover that he was, yet again, unable to fulfill this new "law." And when he quit trying so hard to do well "for Jesus," he would feel like he not only failed his master, but failed his Savior as well.

But this is not the life of the Christian, and this is not the obligation that Paul seeks to level upon his readers. The life of the Christian is not one of merely striving for excellence--at least not at its truest, purest, and basest of levels. The life of the Christian continually flows from death--first from the death of Jesus as an atoning sacrifice for our sin and reconciliation with our Father, then from our death to ourselves as we repent of our striving apart from Christ and submit to living in and by him. In a very real and true sense, while we are living this life here on earth, we wake up to die every day, and in dying, we find life. We must become excellent "die-ers" before we even consider becoming excellent at anything else.

What would our minstries, our programs, our philosophies, our plans, and our goals look like if our standard for success and our measure for excellence was how well we are dying to ourselves and living in Christ?

Daniel Boone and not Daniel Webster

2007-03-13T14:41:00.000-05:00

Sometimes there's a fine line between summary and plagarism.

And other times, the line becomes the only thing you can see.

In fact, the line is sometimes so glaringly obvious, it is annoying. For example: you are taught as a student writer to follow an idea that is not your own with an appropriate parenthetical note. It is only right, we are told, to give credit where credit is due. So we employ various parentheses, dates, numbers, semicolons, italicized phrases, underlined words, quotation marks, and foreign names that shock a reader out of his or her rhythm of comprehension, drawing their attention away to the fact that we're saying something that somebody else has already said (and probably said better that we did!).

The more parenthetical documentation in a paper, the more obvious it becomes that the author is simply gathering information and vomiting it (neatly and sanitarily organized, of course) for your reading (dis)pleasure. By the end of the paper, the author gets an "A" for proper form, but an "F" for originality. All that the author is really saying is that he or she is really good at being a proper copycat.

Like Daniel Webster, the author has simply surveyed what people were saying, determined what it meant, and organized it onto paper. And there it is, accurate as a rifle, but sterile as a hospital room.

I think that's what we do as a church sometimes. We become really good copycats of other churches. We get their sermon series, we employ their fonts in our slides, we take from their websites, we use their philosophies, we adopt their missions, we go to their conferences, and we join their alliances.

Of course, we're not "proper" copycats, because most of the time our congregants, deacons, and elders (or even our staff members!) do not know that we are copying when we are copying. But copycats we are, nonetheless.

And now I must answer the obvious challenge: What is so wrong with being a copycat?

If something at another church is working "for the kingdom," why not "make it our own" in our own context? I mean, don't we have a responsibilty as leaders to keep ourselves familiar with the current trends, so as to stay relevant, keep moving, and keep growing like other churches are growing? We don't want to have to suffer the same setbacks that other churches have, so why not go to their conferences, listen to what they've tried, find out about what has failed, and do at our church what is working for theirs?

Because it just plain is not that easy.

Oh... and those churches didn't copy their way to "the top."

Those churches were Daniel Boones... not Daniel Websters.

Instead of finding out what God is doing there, let's find out what God is uniquely doing here. Let's start asking God, his word, ourselves, and each other:

What is the kingdom of God?

How has God uniquely extended his kingdom in and through our church in the past?

How is God extending his kingdom uniquely in each of our lives?

How is God wanting to use each of us to extend his kingdom over the lives of each other?

How does God seem to be extending his kingdom already in our midst, apart from our initiative?

Where in our community is God leading us? To whom? Would our city even know if we no longer were here? Would our presence be missed?

Once we have answered (and commit ourselves to continuing to answer) these questions, then and only then should we go looking at what God is doing somewhere else. If we don't first answer the questions about our own home, then our home will simply become a hodge podge of what everyone else's home looks like--neatly organized, of course... but sterile.

Let's be Daniel Boones before we are Daniel Websters. Let's recover the excitement and adventure of blazing a trail with God where he has us, lest we simply become articulators of where others have gone.

Why Good Friday is So Good

2007-02-27T12:24:00.000-06:00

I love this time of year--Lent. I love it because it leads up to Good Friday. Yes, Good Friday... not Easter. Well, it does lead up to Easter, but that's not why I like it. I like it because it prepares us for Good Friday, which prepares us for Easter.

Truth be told, I usually cringe when it comes to celebrating Easter, especially as it concerns worship services. On the other hand, I relish the opportunity to commemorate Good Friday. It's easier for me to authentically participate in a Good Friday service than it is for me to participate in an Easter "Celebration" service.

I'm not trying to pit one service against the other, nor am I trying to establish that one is more significant than the other. I'm just saying that I more readily enter into the mood of the Good Friday service than the mood of an Easter "Celebration" service.

Here's why. I think that we celebrate too much as it is in church services. In fact, I think that we celebrate so much that our celebration has lost its connection with the Reason for celebrating.

Here's what I mean by that. On any given Sunday, we want services that are what? Positive. Uplifting. Upbeat. Energetic. We want our greeters to be what? Smiling. Happy. Inviting. Positive. Upbeat. We want people to feel what? Comfortable. Welcome. At ease. Jovial. We want to "change their minds" about church--church is "fun," not "boring." We want our pastors to be what? Funny. Engaging. Encouraging. Inspiring.

My gosh. It's no wonder that people sometimes get the idea that being a Christian means being disconnected from reality--as though all of the garbage going on in the world and in our lives can be (and even needs to be) all forgotten with a grin.

It's this growing disconnection that, in my experience, comes to full term on Easter Sunday. We had better "wow" all of those two-times-per-year-church-attenders with just how happy we are to be Christians. Our greeters' faces better be sore from grinning so widely for so long. Our music better be so joyful that a starving kid from India would forget about his plight. The message better be so evangelistic and positive that an atheist would feel "on the outside looking in." Never mind that most of us couldn't articulate what Jesus' bodily resurrection has to do with our lives here and now. Jesus rose, and that's supposed to make us all happy. So smile, dammit.

I'm jaded... I know. I've seen too many Easter productions for my own good. But man, if I feel like our celebration services are disconnected from reality, how is a one- or two-times-a-year visitor going to feel? Won't this Jesus, this cross, and this tomb, which normally mean little to nothing to him or her to begin with, mean even less if all we're doing is singing more loudly, grinning more widely, shaking their hands more violently, and dusting off the "He is risen/He is risen indeed" phrase for its one-time appearance?

It just doesn't seem very connected to my life. In my life, there is a raging in my soul. There is unrest. In my life, I struggle with how I am living vs. how I am supposed to be living. In my life, I am confronted with my weaknesses, my failures, and my sin. In my life, I see a popular culture who is becoming ever more aware and ever more adept at depicting just how disconnected the Jesus of the American church is with the American life. And I don't think we're going a long way to convince them otherwise in most of our Easter services.

On the other hand, a Good Friday service makes a great deal of sense to me and my life. I can feel the reality of a living Jesus as his Spirit reminds me of his sacrifice. I can feel the peace that is married to the sorrow of an innocent, holy, and powerful God-man dead on a cross. I can feel reconciled to God, because I am reminded that everything that gets in the way of Him and me was put on the back of Jesus, God in the flesh. I can genuinely mourn for all that I've done and for all that's been done to me as the result of sin, and can genuinely find life in the death of the One who has already begun to right all the wrongs.

I guess for me it all comes down to this: the messiness captured in a Good Friday service lines up better with my messy life, and therefore the message of the Good Friday service becomes powerful in my life.

I'd like to see an Easter service that captures this bittersweetness. We're still in the bittersweet right now. We're still people living in the tension of the "already" and "not yet." Christ's reign has begun, but has not yet been fully realized. And although this truth in and of itself does not permit us to celebrate and live as fully as we will be able one day, it does permit us to live to the fullest in the here and now. It connects with life here and now.

Celebrating cantankerously forces me to forsake my life as I know it will be lived immediately after the Easter service is over. I'd much rather exhale in relief after crying at the cross.

Music is Art

2007-02-05T23:19:00.000-06:00

I don't pretend to know a lot about music, or about art. I do know, however, that I have some artistic tendencies. I don't paint or sketch. I don't write short fictional stories or wear thick-rimmed glasses and tight jeans. But I can sing and kinda play a few instruments, at least well enough to get me into trouble. And I think a lot about things and try to put them into words that capture their essence. In prose, that is.

Anyways, I've been lucky or unlucky enough (depends on how you look at it) to be tapped as the interim musical worship leader (long story) at church. Here's what I've come to realize about why music is such a hot button in churches.

An aside before I continue: I firmly believe that the terms "music" and "worship" are not at all interchangeable, and must be kept distinct from each other in order to retain their respective meanings. Worship is living life sacrificially because of Christ's sacrifice (Rom. 12:1); music is an artistic form that churches use to depict that life. Of course, I can worship through music... but I can not allow myself to use the verb "worship" to simply mean "sing" or "play an instrument." I could go on and on and on about this, but I do not wish to focus this particular entry on the subject. Nevertheless, this distinction is relevant to the rest of the entry. Aside completed. Now back to where I was initially headed...

Music is such a hot button in churches because it is an art form, and art is not meant to hide things. It is meant to reveal or depict. It brings to light what is hidden, and draws attention to what our eyes have trained themselves to filter out or pass over as insignificant. Consequently, the music that is selected and sung at a particular church reveals... well, it reveals everything about us musicians that we desire to keep hidden, and reveals all of what is hidden about us to everyone in attendance. It does this whether we realize it or not, and it does this whether we want it to or not. It does this by its very nature, apart from our will, our crafting, or our intentions.

If worshiping means living life sacrificially because of Jesus' sacrifice, then we should expect our music to reveal whether or not we are really worshiping in our lives. That's what art does, remember? It reveals. In other words, by participating on stage in musical worship in front of hundreds of people, we should anticipate being laid bare for who we really are--either as people living sacrificially because of Jesus and with Jesus... or as people who are not.

And this is shaky, scary territory, isn't it? I mean, where I am going to go with this? Am I about to state that I always know if someone is a true worshiper by simply looking at them while they sing or play? Am I going to try and establish that one musical style is a better depiction of a sacrificial life than another style? Should I make a push for the theological content of hymns as a better depiction than those blasted repetitive praise choruses? Am I about to open the Pandora's box of guitar vs. piano? I mean, the guitar kinda looks a little more like a "cross" than a piano, and what's more sacrificial than a cross, right? (I trust that you are picking up on the increased level of sarcasm in the preceding paragraph.)

But these avenues, as well as the fears, insecurities, and often selfish agendas associated with them simply illustrate my point. All of these and anything else competing with Christ for control over a musical worshiper's life will be revealed for all to see when the aspiring musical worshiper goes to sing or to play. The most flawless and grandest of performances can not hide someone's heart. I would even go as far as to say that such performances move only those seeking to consume or to be entertained... and move them somewhere that is not toward the cross. Sure, talent and technical excellence can misdirect for a time, maybe. But for those who are living sacrificially, very little remains hidden from sight. And nothing remains hidden from the One Who Sees All, the Light Himself.

And just to be clear: talent and technical excellence are necessary, but only to the degree that they allow for a faithful depiction of God, his sacrifice in Jesus, and what life is like with him. The point where our talent and excellence either fail to depict these ends (because we don't have enough of them!) or compete with these ends (because we are controlled by them!) is the point where we become depicted through our music as the frauds we really are.

Musical worship sets are not performed; they are created and set on display, just like God did the earth and its inhabitants. Likewise, musical worshippers do not perform; they willingly set themselves on display as a depiction of a sacrificed life. Musical worshipers should therefore be both excited and warned.

Spare the Rod

2007-02-05T23:09:00.001-06:00

So here's another thing that kinda sucks about being a young pastor: confronting laypeople who are significantly older than you are about something that they are doing.

It's like seeing a sign that says "BEWARE: MINE FIELD AHEAD" and deciding to just keep on walking. You know that you are going to get blown up.

You're gonna get blown up because you've never walked in this field before. You don't know where to step. And, because you are young, you easily get fed up with getting sniped at while you are trying to carefully step, or getting pushed while you feel your way, or whatever. Then you decide to hell with it--I'm gonna charge right through this, life and limb be damned.

Discipline has its place. In fact, it has more of a place than we normally give it... at least, that's what I observe. It's much better to courageously have a hard conversation with someone than it is to try to manage them, or blow smoke, or just flat out lie to their face. Trouble is, how do you temper a hard conversation with gentleness and respect? Especially when you're getting anything but?

So, Holy Spirit, give me the courage to have the hard conversations, the wisdom to be honest and clear, the desire to be gentle and respectful, and the willingness to die Christ's death.

Oh... and if it's in your plan, just move those people to a different state or something.

Like a Cancer

2007-01-29T17:40:00.000-06:00

Sometimes God speaks to me when I'm visiting the little boys' room. I know, it's kinda gross. But seriously, it's happened to me more times than I can share, including just right now.

Here's how I think we're "trusting in man" and "depending on flesh for our strength:"

When I was hired, I was told that I was responsible for my own spiritual health and well-being. I was instructed to do the things that were necessary to be spiritually healthy, and that I and I alone was responsible for doing them. I was also told that it was not my job to look out for the spiritual well being of another staff member, nor was it their job to look out for mine. It was each of our jobs to look out for ourselves.

Something followed that piece of advice up like "Ministry is demanding, and there's a lot of work that needs to be done for the kingdom." That part wasn't word-for-word, but pretty much captures the philosophy behind what was said.

But, that's like saying this: "I'm going to put you in a room full of radioactive material. You and you alone are responsible for doing the things that will prevent you from getting cancer."

Or, it's like saying this: "I'm going to put you in the desert. Figure out how to stay alive."

Or really, it's like saying this: "The kingdom of God is like a room full of radioactive material or a desert. Learn how to work in it."

I just can't help but feel that working like this can not be what God intended.

Like a Tree

2007-01-29T16:35:00.000-06:00

Jeremiah 17:5-8

This is what the LORD says:
"Cursed is the one who trusts in man,
who depends on flesh for his strength
and whose heart turns away from the LORD.
JER 17:6 He will be like a bush in the wastelands;
he will not see prosperity when it comes.
He will dwell in the parched places of the desert,
in a salt land where no one lives.
JER 17:7 "But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD,
whose confidence is in him.
JER 17:8 He will be like a tree planted by the water
that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
and never fails to bear fruit."

Sometimes I wish that God, when he inspired men to write these Scriptures, also revealed to them exactly how they were to be interpreted and applied in specific situations... like Targums, only written by God and not by over-zealous lawmakers. I could then thumb to the section addressed specifically to my church in my time period, photocopy it, and make it available for everyone to see. No convincing, massaging, contextualizing, persuading, explaining, or setting up needed. God said it, so we have to believe it and do it. End of story. Moving on.

Of course, that wish is tainted. It's devoid of any real life-changing relationship with God. I and everyone else would simply be bowing to a new law, instead of having the law written on our hearts by the Spirit inside of us like Ezekiel prophesies. It's devoid of any real relationship with one another, as our only connection with one another is making sure that we're to the best of our abilities following the same set of laws.

But what motivates that wish is this: I anticipate that when I attepmt to leverage this Scripture on our current situation, my application will be challenged and picked apart until it has no real power to change us. Thus, if my application matched God's application, then there'd be no doubt, no challenge, no poked holes, no smoke screens. If you don't understand, you'd have to try and understand, and not because I said it, but because God said it. That's why I wish God wrote his version of the Targums.

So here's my application:

You have two type of people contrasted in this passage. First is the person who "trusts in man" and "depends on flesh for his strength." Before I get to what I think this means, or how I see this as being applicable to our current situation, let me make clear what happens to this person: they are like a "bush in the wastelands" who will "dwell in the parched places of the desert." In other words, you know that they are trusting in man and depending on flesh for their strength because, when the heat comes, they wither and dry up. You don't have to know exactly how you're "trusting in man" or "depending on flesh." The point is, if you're drying up under the heat, you are, in some way, doing both of those things. That's the point.

The second person in the passage is the person who "trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him." Of course, this person is "like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream." It remains full of life, and produces fruit, even when the heat comes. Again, just like the previous example, you don't have to know exactly what it means to "trust in the LORD" in your particular situation. All you have to know is that if you're full of life and fruit even when the heat comes, you are trusting in the LORD and putting your confidence in him.

So my application--the application that I'm sure will be strongly challenged when it is shared--is this: I look at me, and I look at those around me, and I see a bunch of bushes withering in the heat. I do not see, either as I look at myself or at those around me, one single person who is full of life and producing fruit.

Now, I see plenty of people striving to be productive. Hell, we're frantic when it comes to being productive. But we're withering. And withering people, while they can be very productive, just are unable to produce the kind of fruit that a person connected to God will produce. It's just science... or something like that.

Thus, I conclude that all of us are somehow, someway putting our trust in man and depending on flesh for our strength. I don't know how we're doing that exactly. But I see us withering. That fact is undeniable. And if I go by this passage in Jeremiah, then I'm forced to conclude that because we're withering, we're putting our trust in man and depending on flesh for strength.

At least, that's what I think.

Relax, Adam

2007-01-24T23:15:00.000-06:00

You gotta learn to relax, Adam. You seem so anxious. I'm sure that your anxiety will subside if you just learn to relax.

There's a good tree over there--easy to climb, with plenty of cover. Rest up in its branches. No one will be able to find you there. It's a great hiding spot. I'm sure the rest that you'll get will rejuvenate and restore you.

Just relax. Hide for awhile. Nevermind for how long--just hide for however long it takes. You'll know when it's safe to come back down. Not even He will look forever. He's not even that good at finding anything... so you need not worry.

In fact, Adam, you should just learn to be a good hider for the rest of your life. You were the one who got yourself in this predicament in the first place. You're better off up in the branches. In fact, it's your duty to learn how to skillfully hide. It's for your own survival. You and I both know what will happen if He finds you. You'll be seen for who you really are.

Nevermind that cross, or the road that leads there and proceeds from there. It's an arduous road--much more demanding than the low-hanging branches and thick foilage that safely cover you now. If you head there, you'll have no protection--everyone will see you for who you really are. In fact, you will see yourself for who you really are. And trust me, it's not pretty.

And mark my words: if you head down that road, you'll suffer what the man who first hung there suffered. He died, put on display for everyone to see. If you climb down out of that tree and head there, you'll die the same death, and you'll die it for everyone to see as well. I'll make sure of it.

I'm telling you: you'll be better off if you just keep running and hiding. The more you run, the easier running will become. The more you hide, the more skillful you'll become in what you allow others to see... not to mention the more able you will be in staying away from Him.

And if you ever get tired, just find a good branch with great cover. If you hold on tightly enough, you won't fall out. Yeah, I know... it's a skill to learn how to cling tightly and sleep at the same time. You'll get it soon enough, though. Everyone does.

Missing Beauty

2007-01-21T21:53:00.000-06:00

I think that we long for things that move the soul.

A soul that is moved is beautiful.

Things that move the soul are beautiful.

And the process by which a soul is moved by the things that move it is nothing short of artistry.

But alas, the soul is a hard thing to move, for a host of reasons.

For one, the soul most often has been wounded. Sometimes the wounds are fresh, and the soul has securely fashioned a hard protective cast to prevent further damage. Other times the wounds are so old that the callouses covering them appear to be indistinguishable from the soul itself. All of this to say: a soul, wounded freshly or not, is a hard thing to penetrate--cast or callous. And unless a soul is penetrated, it cannot be moved.

For another, the soul has been wooed by a host of lovers proven false. These lovers have so often and so easily romanced the soul, masquerading as genuine movers... but resulting only in dissatisfaction and even woundedness. These lovers have left the soul either a whore for being cheaply romanced, or a skeptic for being oft jilted. The whorish soul will have trouble remembering what it was like to be truly moved, and the jilted soul will be skeptical of anything resembling a claim of being moved.

And oh, how difficult it is to move a wounded, whorish, or jilted soul. To truly move it.

But oh, how beautiful it is when a wounded, whorish, or jilted soul is moved. Truly moved.

And how many of those who take up seats in our worship services habor within them these wounded, whorish, or jilted souls? I would venture to say the number would be a rather high percentage. Actually, I would do more than venture. I would claim.

So, knowing this--that most of our "worshippers" are in dire need of being moved so that the quotations can be taken off of that word--I wonder: do we as pastors dedicate ourselves to the artistry of moving souls which seem almost impossible to move? Or, do we punt, and settle for something less? OR, God forbid, do we add to the soul's woundedness, encourage the soul's whoremongering, and/or bolster the soul's skepticism?

It's hard work moving the soul. Maybe better put: it's hard to dedicate one's self to the difficult, messy, hard-to-measure work of moving the soul of another. Wounded souls don't seem to seek out our help; whorish souls seem to gobble up our aid at a frantic pace without any signs of lasting change; jilted souls knowingly chuckle at the life preserver we tossed them, all the while denying the fact that they are indeed drowning.

We need to approach these souls with a sense of artistry. We must become wise in the ways of the soul and how it's moved despite its many impurities, its barriers, and its appetites.

And, most likely, that journey starts with gazing at the souls within us.

I wonder how many of us will find wounded souls. Lord knows how many wounds a pastor's soul suffers over the course of a week, a day, an hour... and sometimes over the course of just a few minutes. Lord knows how many callouses cover a pastor's heart, if only for the purpose of sheer survival.

I wonder how many of us will find whorish souls. Perhaps in our quest for vision and clarity, we have romanced our own souls with lovers proven false. Maybe we are afraid of what we will see if we cut our lovers off. Maybe we're afraid of how little purity might be left. Maybe we're afraid that the lovers we so desperately want to believe are true are actually false.

I wonder how many of us will find jilted souls. How many strategies for successful life and ministry have fallen painfully short? How many new ideas have petered out to insignificance? How many phrases have been used so often that they have long since lost their meaning and power? How many days, months, or years has it been since the soul has truly "felt its worth?"

It is amazing how many demands of the job of a pastor call the pastor away from the journey within, convincing him that the journey within is wholly distinct from the journey together. I can not forsake the one for the other--either the former for the latter, or the latter for the former.

Action points will be coming shortly. I am too tired at this point to think clearly any longer.

King of the Hill

2007-01-17T13:38:00.000-06:00

I watch the animated series "King of the Hill" on occasion. I think that I have an affinity with the conflict between Hank Hill and his son, Bobby. Hank is "traditional," and Bobby is anything but. Hank has an "old school" and somewhat ridgid idea of what a man should be and do, and Bobby is much more eclectic... which frustrates, embarasses, and confuses the hell out of his dad. Nevertheless, despite Hank's desire to craft his son Bobby in his own image, Hank is conscious of the fact that he needs to learn to love and accept Bobby for how he is different. Hank's not perfect, but he holds the tension between teaching and accepting pretty well. And I like that.

There was this one episode of King of the Hill that almost perfectly captures this tension. In this episode, Bobby starts going down yet another path that causes Hank to roll his eyes, furrow his brow, and sigh with a frustrated embarassment: Bobby decides to dive head over heels into the Christian rock scene. Of course, Hank has a set place in his life for church and worship--on Sundays, in the normal pew, at the normal time. I think it's a Methodist church or something like that.

Here's the set up: Bobby thinks that church is boring, and he doesn't want to go. Well, Hank thinks that this isn't right. His son needs to be a good, moral, church-going person like everybody else in the Bible belt. In Hank's mind, part of being a good man is going to church. You don't go to church to be entertained; you go because it's the right thing to do. Well, Bobby doesn't so much see it that way. He thinks that it's boring, that it's pointless, that it doesn't really add to his life at all... so he gripes about going.

Well, Hank takes matters into his own hands, and sets up a meeting with him, Bobby, and the lady who pastors the church. The pastor suggests that Bobby start going to the youth group, and Hank excitedly agrees, thinking that this might be just what Bobby needs.

So Hank makes Bobby go to the youth group. Bobby reluctantly goes, and to his surprise he doesn't find Bible nerds but Christian rockers, complete with the long hair, the cross necklaces, and the Jesus tattoos. He falls in love with this subculture. He starts dressing like them, buying Christian rock music, going to shows, etc. He even joins their Christian rock band (the animist deftly portrays Bobby like the little person who traveled and sang with Kid Rock until his recent death).

And herein lies the rub: Hank was not at all expecting this. He wanted his son to be like him when it came to church... not deviant in a different way. So Hank shows up to the Christian rock show that he forbade Bobby to perform in (but that Bobby snuck out to anyway), and drags him off the stage--much to the consternation of his son.

On their drive back to their house from the concert, Bobby is turned away from his dad, looking angrily out the window. Though the dialogue from Bobby is terse and accusing, you can see Hank beginning to soften. He wants to teach Bobby something.

They get home, and Hank takes Bobby into the garage. He pulls out a box containing all sorts of different things from Bobby's childhood--things like skates, Ninja Turtle outfits, and the like--all of the different fads that Bobby had quickly bought into, and just as quickly left behind. Bobby is immediately disarmed by this walk down memory lane. And then Hank lays this on him:

"I don't want the Lord to end up in this box."

And Bobby realizes: practicing faith requires just as much care and concern as having faith itself. You can't simply have faith and then select any old way to practice it. Rather, how you practice your faith speaks volumes of what kind of faith you have.

Relevancy, affinity, and pragmatism must take a back seat when it comes to the selection of a ministry model, a strategy, or a worship style. They must take a back seat to the unchanging nature of the biblical truths and goals which they attempt to represent.

Examples:

Musical worship is not good because it is relevant, engaging, moving, or excellent. Musical worship is good because God is good, because he sent Jesus as a sacrifice for our sin, and because it musically represents those truths. Its relevancy must help the music to portray these truths. It must engage people to ponder and believe these truths. It must move people to realize the reality of these truths. Its excellence should awaken people to the excellent work of the cross and the reality of a God Come Down. When we evaluate worship, we should always first ask: did we, through music, effectively and accurately portray the reality of Jesus, his sacrificial work, and life in him? Only then do we even consider spending time on other peripheral goals.

Ministry models are not all created equal. They most certainly do not all equally espouse and further kingdom values and lifestyles. You can't just choose the one that "works the best for your church." I just don't think that our decision in regards to a ministry model is as easy as a trial and error process governed by pragmatism. Our task as pastors and followers of Jesus, in my understanding, is to proclaim the reality of the kingdom of God, teach people what it means to be a citizen, and model what life is like in the kingdom. There are real, concrete, unchanging, life-giving realities, truths, and principles that were established in Jesus's ministry, death, and resurrection. We measure our options of ministry models against those truths before we become pragmatic about the whole thing and look to things like how many people are coming to a worship service, are in a small group, or volunteering. In essence: before we ask if what we're doing is "working," we have to ask if what we're doing is working for the right goal: the establishment and furtherance of the kingdom of God. WHICH MEANS: we have to spend as much time familiarizing ourselves with what the kingdom is as we do with how we think it could be advanced.

And I think that's it for this one... at least, for now.

I'm Confused

2007-01-16T23:17:00.000-06:00

I think that's probably the most accurate and most honest way to capture my state of being at most times: confused. I'm just... confused.

I don't think it's a bad thing. Being confused, that is. I think it's just a part of this leg of the journey. At least, I hope it's part of this leg of the journey. Otherwise, I need to see a psychiatrist. Stat.

Wow... I've had to restart this next sentence about 4 times before deciding that I can't even finish it. Here is the sentence: "Here's what I mean about being 'confused...'". And then I can't finish it. It's like however I want to capture it, I just can't. Maybe that's because I'm confused about my confusion.

No, that's not it. I don't think I'm confused about my confusion. I think I know why I am confused. I'm confused mainly because I'm young. Here's what I mean by that (and this time, I think I can finish that sentence!): I think that I know why things are the way that they are. Not about everything, mind you. But about certain things. I think that I can point to biblical truths, situational evidence, and past experience to provide an explanation as to why particular things are they way they are.

But, I ask myself: do the other people around me and above me who are not so young see it the way that I see it? Would they point to the same truths, the same situational evidence, and similar experience to provide the same explanation? And if so, why are they not acting or responding in the way that I would respond?

It's here that my youth kicks in. I start to wonder: are there things that they see about this situation that I do not? Things that they are able to see because of their more extensive experience or knowledge, insider information, and the like? Is my youthful inexperience a blindspot on my sight?

And it kicks in here, too. I start to wonder: are there things that they do not see because of the filters they have developed over the years that I have yet to develop? Are those filters a good thing, or a bad thing? Do they enable clearer vision, or do they produce blindspots? Really, what it boils down to for me is this: do I see things that they do not?

And I think my youth drives me toward the latter of the two "kicking in" points. I really, really want to believe that I see things that they do not. I mean, I am forced to consider the former--that they see things that I do not. But I'd much rather believe and act upon the latter--that I see things that they do not.

And I think the fact that I want to believe the latter and not the former is a rather unfortunate characteristic of being young. And somewhat stupid and green, too.

But, come on... how romantic and amazing would it be to "take a stand" and "boldly proclaim the truth?" How godly of me. "Here's what I see that all of you obviously don't." I'd be like a prophet... like Jeremiah or Elijah or someone like that. Standing up to the leaders who have missed it... only to be chased into the desert where I have to live on crickets and manna and sugar water that comes out of rocks. Such is the life of the prophets of God.

Only I don't think that my leaders are worshipping Baal or erecting statues of themselves or anything. They're actually all respectable, sincere, godly men--worthy of my respect and submission, and from whom I can learn a lot.

Nevertheless, I am faced with this dilemma: I think there might be things that they see that I do not, and I think that there might be things that I see that they do not. I'm pretty sure that both of those are true. The trick is gonna be how to find out if indeed they both are true, or if only one of them is.

Another part about being young that kinda sucks is this: as a young person, you are easily shaped by your environment. We like to pretend that's not the case, like we know who we are and will stay who we are no matter where we are, but that's pretty much crap. It's crap because wherever we go when we're young, we encounter new things--things we've never had to think about before, understand before, or make a decision about before.

And think about them, try to understand them, and make a decision about them we will. We have to. It's our responsibility as people, as pastors called by God. But in each of those new things--those new situations that we think, understand, and decide about--our convictions and values that currently shape our thinking, understanding, and deciding are put to the test.

And these aren't school tests any more. These are tests that involve people... that involve souls. Not to mention others' perception of us... others who may even be the providers of our jobs.

And as a result of continually being tested, and continually observing how others beyond you in experience and age handle those same tests, you yourself are changed. And that's scary.

Here's why that's scary: because at every level so far, you as a young person have been given warnings by those mentors and sages that you have looked to for education, guidance, mentoring, discipleship, accountability, etc. You have listened to the stories of those who have been burned out, of those who became someone they did not set out to be, of those who miraculously escaped the traps that they found themselves in, and of those who weren't so lucky.

And you realize: my thinking, understanding, and decisions on these new situations really does matter. They matter because they are shaping who I am... shaping who I am in a way that I'm probably not even fully aware.

And you wonder: how do I know if my thinking is right? How do I know if my understanding is whole? How do I know if the decision I made was the right one? What's the standard by which I'm supposed to measure?

I feel like I should stop now. Not stop asking the questions... just writing about them for now.