bye bye, blog

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

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

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

"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

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

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?

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?