Intersection

I've been slowly making my way through a book by N.T. Wright for several months now, and I just might finish it someday.  My snail's pace isn't because I don't enjoy the book, but more because life has a way of filling up.  It's actually been quite good - it's a very "big picture" look at God, the world, and the church.  Also it's another reminder of how distorted our view of God's Story has become in western evangelicalism.      

The main thrust of the book is a journey to follow a thread that runs all throughout scripture: namely the idea that God's primary purpose in creation is the bringing together of Heaven and Earth for all eternity.  The Garden of Eden, the Jewish temple, the person of Jesus, and even the church all serve as "points of intersection" between heaven and earth - the places where the spiritual and physical realms dramatically and gloriously collide.  Perhaps the most clear picture of all is found in the conclusion of the Book of Revelation, when the heavenly Jerusalem touches down and God's eternal throne is established on the earth.  From there, Eternity spills into time and the whole earth is made new and put to rights.    

That's a lot different than the idea of "going to heaven."

How could such a foundational doctrine be so blatantly ignored (or simply misunderstood) in our churches?  Why have I grown up in the church my entire life and never heard this stuff until my twenties?  What would be different if we preached that God was coming back to make the world right again, and that you and I are the precious first-fruits of that resurrection?  All of the sudden there is room in the story for justice, for beauty, and for restoration.

Maybe the most pleasant surprise is the newfound freedom to actually enjoy the earth and all its humanity.  It's not just a godforsaken rock that will one day burn (and in the meantime must be avoided and ignored).  It's a good creation - one that will be made right; one that will have its groans for justice and goodness and love answered some day.  I don't need to feel like a pagan for enjoying the green grass or a hot meal or for having skin.

The challenge that Wright issues is a call to live life as a down-payment of the New Day Coming.  The message we carry as believers should serve to drag God's future into our present - to literally pull eternity into time - until Heaven and Earth collide and we discover what wholeness looks like.  

  

Still Alive...

I guess it's been quite a while since I've written.  I guess I just haven't felt very inspired to put pen to paper (or fingers to keys) these days.  Same old, same old.  But there are a few things happening in my life:

1.  I'm switching jobs in the very near future (about a week).  VERY excited about it too.  I'll be working for a professional brass instrument repair/production shop called the BAC Horn Doctor.  They specialize in professional trombones and other vintage brass.  Right up my alley.  It should be fun.

2.  I'm going backpacking!  This is an enormously exciting thing!  I'll be meeting up with three of my best friends on earth next weekend in the ozark mountains for some catching up and camping.  It's been several months since I've seen them, and I'm also really needing some time away from city life.  Good for the soul.

3.  I'm engaged!  (just kidding... still single)

Duality

He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous alike.

-Matthew 5:45

The range of humanity is absolutely enormous.  The capacity for good and evil within our race can make your head spin.  The same species that has landed a man on the moon, cured diseases, and written sonnets has also created a nuclear bomb, organized global sex-trade networks and human trafficking rings, and built concentration camps.  

Both good and evil proceed from this fragile human frame we all share.  Both Mother Teresa and Adolf Hitler found themselves trapped inside skin and blood and bones.  Michelangelo and the unibomber breathed the same air into the same pair of lungs.  Billy Graham and Osama Bin Laden both have to eat.  

I'm not trying to label "good people" versus "bad people."  More often than not we see examples of extreme good present right along with extreme evil in the same individual.  Some of the most gifted artists in history have lead some of the most depressed and suicidal lives imaginable.  Charlie Parker, a legend among jazz musicians, died alone in a hotel room after a lifestyle of heroin abuse (the coroner estimated him to be between 55 and 60 years old, when in reality he was only 34).  Vincent Van Gogh tragically ended his own life by firing a bullet through his heart.  The apostle Paul baptized believers in his lifetime and also slaughtered them like animals.  And on a more personal note, I was shocked today to discover that a former teacher of mine (who had been a very positive influence throughout high school) had been arrested around this time last year in a sex-related public indecency scandal.

And then there's you and me.  

It's examples like these that clearly expose our condition as humans.  We're fractured and above all inconsistent.  We bless and curse in the same breath.  We build up one minute, and tear down the next.  Integrity is lacking.  We each have it in us to be murderers, adulterers, and liars.  We also have it in us to be the very sons and daughters of God - the most beautifully creative and peacefully satisfied people for whom creation itself yearns.  

If anything, it makes me take a second look at how I think I'm performing.  My own light will never erase my darkness, and by the same token my darkness will never disqualify my light.  Neither extreme carries as much weight as I think it does.  We all need a savior.  We all need re-birth.

In the meantime, God is kind to all.  He patiently extends one hand to a drunkard and the other hand to a choir boy.  In this earth, the wheat grows up along with the tares, and the sun shines on both good and evil men.     

 

Violence

I feel like I've been bumping into the theme of violence in a lot of different places lately - blogs, books, music, and preaching.  Seems to be a hot issue, too.  I first really started thinking about it when I picked up a copy of Derek Webb's latest solo album, The Ringing Bell.  Much of the content of the record centers around the idea that violence is our natural tendency - that it's the easiest path to walk down - but that Jesus wasn't joking around when he stressed the need to love our enemies regardless of who they are.  I've also heard some sermons lately touching on the "Blessed are the Peacemakers" section of the Sermon on the Mount.  

Then just last night I was reading in a book by the brilliant N.T. Wright, who was saying how even the Jewish mindset of the coming Messiah was fundamentally linked to the expectation of violence.  One of the primary assumptions about the Christ was that he was to immediately deliver Israel from their hostile neighbors, once and for all, through a violent and bloody war waged on their behalf.  When Jesus came on the scene, he found himself among a people who were ready for a fight - ready to be fought for.  How greatly ironic then for Jesus to bring a message of peace - a message that Israel was in fact called to love her enemies, turn the other cheek, and lay down her life.  And if his words weren't enough to cause a stir, Jesus then practices what he preaches and gives his life on a cross, blowing every expectation of how the Messiah would do things.  He rebukes Peter for using violence to fight against the cup of His Father (as he cuts off the guard's ear in the garden) and warns him of the dangers of living by the sword.  Rather than kill, Jesus lets himself be killed.  

There's something powerful in the contrast between violence and meekness.  Something about taking the bullet if it's the only way to avoid fighting sin with sin.  Something about the backward ways of Kingdom-living that aren't always successful, but are always faithful.

I think the desire for violence is something that wears many masks in our day, and because it has so many sophisticated disguises (including church language), it goes unnoticed and unacknowledged more often than not.  I wonder if my desires for things like "divine justice" and "righteous judgement" also have cravings for good old fashioned violence mixed in.

There are no easy answers with this subject, but I think that a lot of us could use a bit of a reminder that the peacemakers are indeed blessed, and that self-sacrificing meekness is still the way of the cross.   

The Joys of Autumn

It has been pointed out to me that I get way more excited about seasonal activities than the average joe. Take the Fourth of July, for instance. It was raining this year, and some of my friends were ready to break out George Foreman's Lean Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine and call it a night. No, sir. Not on my watch. I insisted that my burger be treated right: prepared atop a traditional charcoal flame - outside - with a Sousa march playing in the background. So, met with chuckles and rolling eyes from my companions, I took my burger, braved the thunderstorm, and grilled the stars and stripes out of the thing. I was wet at the end, but my burger tasted like America.

That being said, my favorite season (by far) is autumn. When I woke up this morning and felt cold wind flirting with me through my window, I was more than a little pleased. It was perfect weather all day long, actually. I took a very long walk this afternoon (in a sweater!), and it struck me just how many memories something like the crisp air can trigger in me.

Images of middle school youth retreats came flooding back - the nights at Camp America where so many of us were introduced to Jesus of Nazareth and found out what loving Him looked like. I thought of cold mornings when Ben would pick me up at 5AM, a Caedmon's Call record playing in his car, to go and pray around the High School. Then there were the fall evenings of golden leaves and a game of disc golf with Ryan (I was never good at the game, but of course that's never why I went). Late-in-the-season cookouts at the Maglich house and impromptu bonfires at Hueston Woods rank high on my list as well. With the arrival of autumn it was also pretty much a given that we would block off at least one long weekend and escape down to Red River Gorge. There's nothing better than waking up in a tent to frozen toes and frosty breath with five or ten of your closest friends.

I could go on, as I haven't even mentioned corn mazes, pumpkin patches, hay-rides, or steaming hot apple cider yet, but I'll spare you. Suffice it to say that I am gearing up for some seasonal bliss in the very near future.

Erosion

I don't know that there has ever been a time in my life when I've felt less like a Christian.  And I don't say that because I'm suddenly in the scandalous habit of hanging out in bars, fishing for a one night stand.  I'm not.  As a matter of fact, I'm at home spending quality time with some oreos and a glass of milk.  

What I mean is, I've never felt so detached from the values and the practices of biblical Christianity.  Maybe it's just this transitional stage of life I'm in, getting on my feet (or trying to, as the case may be...) and encountering for the first time what "grown-up life" is all about.  Unfortunately, most of it's about rent and insurance and groceries and cars and working overtime.  By its very nature, my life has gotten much more "worldly" in the past six months, and I'm feeling the effects.  There are those who would tell me that God is still very present in my workplace and that I just need to look for Him in new ways.  And they're right.  I know that a "regular job" can be a great ministry.  I know that God is still present in this season.

But there's still something about it all that feels a lot like erosion; like the gradual chipping away of the Kingdom in my heart.  

I was venting some of this to a dear friend of mine a few weeks back, and he pointed me to the passage in Mark where Jesus tells the parable of the sower and the seed.  I can really see myself in the soil that had the thorns growing in it.  The worries of the world, the deceitfulness of riches, and the desires for other things are all knocking on my door daily, and I've been staring back at them through the peephole.

Jesus warned us that life has a way of choking the word and making it unfruitful.  I don't want to be a disappointed, burnt-out "twenty-something."  I don't want my heart to be a casualty.  I want to feel like I'm the good soil again.

One thing's for sure:  I have a lot more compassion for the people I used to look down on.  I can remember many years ago my friends and I getting fed up with the "older generation" in my home church because it seemed like they just didn't have the energy or desire to pursue the "Deep Things of God" with us passionate younger folks in the youth group.  They were so passive... so worldly.  We were pretty arrogant at times.  

And now I find myself on the other side of the equation.  Now I'm the hard working simpleton who struggles to read his Bible every week.  God's a good shepherd for letting me see both sides (and hopefully taking the good from both perspectives).  

He is patient and He is kind.  This season will pass in time, and I know that I'll continue learning what it really looks like to live a Godly life.     

Direction and Trust

I wonder if I'll know when to take the next step. Will the curtain drop down and cleanly separate act two from act three? Will there be definition as my life continues?

My tendency thus far has been to take the words of the Lord and put them on like handcuffs. In the name of "faithfulness," I cling onto to yesterday's yoke and last year's inspirations. I stay up late and wonder if I'm still bound to the words that were spoken to me years ago.

I know that God leaves me room to change, but there's still something in me that hesitates to move on after I feel that a certain amount of direction has been provided.

Is something as fickle as my heart really a sufficient compass down this road?

I wonder if, when the time comes and the season does change, I will feel a sense of closure or if I will simply have to make a decision and move on. I suspect the latter.

I heard a story once about a man who came to Mother Teresa and asked for prayer. When she asked him for his request, the man replied that he needed clarity. She looked at him sternly and informed the man that she was unwilling to pray for clarity in his life. Flustered and confused, the man explained that he had come to her because she always seemed to have a sense of direction and clarity concerning her own life and her surroundings. Laughing, she corrected the man and stated that she had never once experienced clarity in her life - but that she had always possessed trust.

In the end, being able to trust is infinitely more valuable than having a moment of clarity.

Elusive Beauty

And how is it that beauty fades so quickly? The glorious sunset is soon over. Beauty is, at best, the echo of a voice. And if we try to pin it down - literally, in the case of a butterfly collector with a specimen - we find that the key thing itself, the elusive beauty which keeps us always looking further, is precisely what you lose when the pin goes in. Beauty is here, but it's not here. It is this - this bird, this song, this sunset - but it is not this.

- N.T. Wright, Simply Christian


There is preciousness in life's spontaneous places. Beauty can never be bought - it is never available on demand. Authenticity comes only as life is received in a natural way.

Too often our pursuit of beauty is the very thing that kills it. Many times our quest for happiness is what ends up breaking our hearts. We experience love and then try our best to pin it down - to freeze it or lock it away - but our striving to preserve love is precisely what ruins it. Genuine passion suffocates under the weight of our straining. Real happiness simply can't keep up with us when we're chasing down our dreams.

Friendships are a blessing as long as they are not an obligation. Love is content until it becomes a duty. Knowing God is refreshing provided it's not contrived.

We have all perceived at times the difference between that which is natural and that which is manipulated; the difference between being and behaving. We desperately want love in our lives, as long as it's real. Nothing feels worse than forced affection.

Can we pursue God in such a way that we don't smother the very life that we're desiring to experience? Just to respond naturally to what He says and does in our lives - nothing more, nothing less. I want authentic beauty - the kind that may turn out to be elusive and unpredictable. Here today and gone tomorrow. The alternative is to take love and pin it down into a formula, only to discover that all of the wonder has been lost.

Choices

Can there be something in life that has power over us which little by little causes us to forget all that is good? And can this ever happen to one who has heard the call of eternity quite clearly and strongly? If this ever can be, then one must look for a cure against it. Praise be to God that such a cure exists – to quietly make a decision. A decision joins us to the eternal. It brings what is eternal into time. A decision raises us with a shock from the slumber of monotony. A decision breaks the magic spell of custom. A decision ends the long row of weary thoughts. A decision pronounces a blessing upon even the weakest beginning, as long as it is a real beginning. Decision is the awakening to the eternal.

- Soren Kierkegaard

After spending thirteen years in public education and four years in a university, I’ve learned many things - but decision making is not one of them. Life to this point has felt like something that has just sort of happened to me. I didn’t choose my best friends growing up. My neighbors and classmates were just there – handed to me by my street address and my last name’s special place in the alphabet. In high school, I didn’t exactly spend the summer after my sophomore year staying up late, trying to discern whether or not to enter my junior year. It was kind of a given. Even my college selection was a no-brainer. With free tuition, wonderful professors with whom I was already acquainted, and a solid Christian roommate lined up, it was time to pack my bags and head up the hill to Miami University. Life has been full of “next steps” that have presented themselves in perfect succession, allowing me to coast down the path naturally, with minimal steering on my part. And make no mistake – I feel I’ve spent my time exactly where I’ve needed to spend it. I have no regrets about any of the places I’ve been or people I’ve come to love.

However, after graduating college, it did feel a bit like standing at the edge of a cliff. The path before me suddenly stopped, and the next move was mine to make. My indecision really came out in that season, and luckily my friends and family were more than patient with me as I stood there, petrified and paralyzed. Well, I’ve taken a few steps since then and have found myself in a new place. And as I keep going, I guess I’m realizing more and more the centrality of decision making (and how I’m not so good at it). Life’s path no longer slopes gently and naturally, and for the first time in quite a while I’m having to peddle to get somewhere. No more coasting.

I’m beginning to wake up to the fact that my dreams and goals aren’t going to materialize in front of me on a platter (my apologies to any older and wiser readers for whom this point seems painfully obvious). If I want to someday escape the American Dream, it’s going to take decisions. If I want to get married some day, it’s definitely going to take action on my part. If I want to live by the mountains or by an ocean, that’s something that I will have to choose.

It’s an odd feeling – my white-canvas life in front of me. It’s not unlike “playing God.” And I suppose that’s where I am in all of this: trying to figure out where God resides in it. More precisely, I’m looking for the points where God and I will intersect in the moments of choice. As Kierkegaard says, "a decision joins us to the eternal." At the heart, it’s a creative process, and thus there is risk. Through making choices, God allows us to reach upward, take hold of eternity, and pull it down into time.

Don Miller on Ministry

I've really enjoyed re-reading some Donald Miller books since moving to KC - probably because his perspective on walking with Jesus is way different than that of my charismatic surroundings - and I guess I still get a kick out of feeling different every now and then. He's also an incredibly entertaining read, with stories that leave me wishing I knew all of his quirky friends. On his website, Miller has posted a document that I've included below. It's an overview of convictions that he and his friends have come to as they have ministered to the "pagan society" that currently surrounds us. Some of it I really like, and some of it grieves me because I see the dangers that hide right around the corner from such beliefs. It's very interesting stuff to ponder, and I've enjoyed trying to extract the good bits from the not-so-good ones. I've very rarely come across a single "mission statement-esque" document that made me think so much! My comments from here on out will be in blue italics.

(The following can be found at donaldmillerwords.com).


Thirteen Paradigm Shifts We Encountered Doing Christian Ministry in a Pagan
Environment...

1. Other People Exist: Simply coming to the understanding that the world does not
revolve around “me” but that everybody is having an experience, created by God,
loved by God, and that we needed to repent of showing partiality...

2. Nobody will listen to you unless they know you like them: We began to
understand that people, subconsciously, merit a religious or philosophical idea not
on logical conclusions, but on whether or not the idea creates a “good
person”...the definition of a good person being whether or not a person is kind to
them, tolerant and understanding, able to listen without arguing and so on.

I really appreciate this approach, and how it recognizes that even sinful men can "judge a tree by its fruit." Are the Christians they see in their daily lives beautiful people? What has God actually done to change them?

3. Nobody will listen to God unless they know God loves them: We came to believe
there was usually a hidden pain behind hostility, that many people have been hurt
by the church, or people or perspectives they believed to represent God. Many
times its as simple as an interview they saw on CNN, but an apology and kindness
went a long way in helping people understand God was loving.

4. Other people have morality and values: We came to understand that Christians do
not own morality, that everybody lives by a moral code, not always informed by
an ancient text, and yet it is there. Calling people or even thinking of them as
immoral was, then, inappropriate. In fact, we often found that people who did not
know Christ lived a morality close to his heart in many areas we had ignored, ie;
community, tolerance, social justice, fairness and equality, freedom, beauty and
so on and so on.

Yes and no. I see what he's going for - how we often neglect the good heart and the valuable gifts that God gives people simply by virtue of being created by him (even before they're saved they have eternity written on their hearts). But if left unchecked, this message can whitewash the depravity of man and tend to downplay the desperate wickedness of the heart that needs God's re-birth.

5. Find common ground: Often the morality of others overlapped Christian morality,
and we came to understand that in these cases, we would focus on the overlapping
issues. We came to see this as kindness, just as though we were on a date or
making friends, we did not focus on what we didn’t have in common, but rather
on mutual feelings about life. We would not say or do anything to combat people
unless they knew we loved them, and this takes a great deal of time.

6. Define terms in their language: We were careful about Christian sayings and
phrases that might be offensive: Crusade, sin, immorality....we came to
understand that concepts were more sacred than terms...

Amen! I really appreciate this point. If truth itself is offensive, that's one thing, but much of what we cling to as "gospel" is in fact mere form and terms that could be communicated in new and more loving ways if we tried.

7. Telling somebody about the gospel is about them, not us: We were careful not to
try to “build our organization” and respected peoples freedom and space. Sharing
the gospel became an exercise in friendship, rather than an attempt to grow a
machine. Often, people feel used if they feel they are being recruited. The gospel,
we learned, is really about them, their feelings about God and truth, about sin,
and about life.

Yes. Jesus never manipulated anyone to follow him.

8. Don’t let spreading the gospel feel any different than telling somebody about a
love in your life, about your children or a great memory: We realized that in
telling somebody about Jesus, we were telling them about somebody we have
come to love and need, and about something that had happened to us, an
encounter. This keeps us from sounding preachy, and allows us to share part of
ourselves in a friendship.

This is one of those things that's tricky. Yes, when speaking of Christ you are telling someone about "your close friend," but here's the difference - none of my other friends hold salvation in their hands. None of my other friends lived a sinless life and died in my place. None of my other friends are returning in wrath to judge a fallen world and destroy wickedness. In this way, there is an urgency and a necessity in preaching Jesus that feels quite different from just talking about any other friend in my life.  It is not necessary for your soul that you meet and love my friends before you die.  However, it is quite necessary that you meet and love Jesus.

9. Include lost People in Your Community: Our organization was not exclusive. We
invited non-believers into the community if they wanted to be invited. We were
careful not to not be ourselves with them, but they were certainly invited and
enjoyed being a part of the group. We explained terms that we used, what we
believed, but other than that, continued as normal.

I really like this one. I want to be upfront in my spirituality. Let people see exactly what they're getting into by being a Christian living in community. Let them consider the cost, as well as see the real beauty of fellowship.

10. Apologize for what you represent: We discovered that many people have been
offended or hurt by what they perceive Christianity to be. We allowed ourselves
to stand in the place of “Christianity” and apologize whenever necessary.

Very powerful point. Read Miller's "Confession" chapter in his book Blue Like Jazz to hear an amazing story of this in action.

11. Be authentic: We discovered the need to be as honest about our lives as possible.
We did not feel the need to sale Jesus, as much as share what He has done in our
broken lives. We had no problem sharing our doubts and fears about faith, along
with our commitment and appreciation for what God had done.

Again, very powerful.

12. Pray for the Salvation of others: We discovered the need to pray for others. This
would insure God was working in peoples lives, as we asked Him to. We
discovered the work of evangelism is something God lets us watch, but very little
of it is what we manipulate. We repented of not believing evangelism was a
spiritual exchange between a lost person and God, rather than believing it was a
series of ideas we were supposed to convince others of.

13. Ask people if they would like to know Christ: We decided to initiate, whenever
the relationship called for it. We were not afraid to ask people if they would like
to know God.

War

Of all the metaphors found in the Word of God, one of the most widespread and powerful images is that of war. I got a fresh taste of this metaphor yesterday because I visited the World War I museum downtown (it’s the only such monument to WWI in our nation, by the way). It was fascinating to see so many artifacts, films, and photographs from a time not so distant, but very differret than ours.

It struck me just how confrontational things were. While this may seem like a given when talking about a war, it's something that hit me as altogether different than our war today. So much of the propaganda in WWI was designed to make young men feel like the lowest of the low if they were not out there on the front lines. There was one poster that showed a woman and her child drowning with the word ENLIST plastered across the bottom - as if to send the message to some young man that he was personally responsible for their deaths by way of his inaction. Today, by contrast, it doesn't really matter if you support the troops or not. You are, of course, entitled to your opinion. Another WWI poster portrayed a german soldier as a crazed gorilla, ravaging towns and raping an innocent american woman. Today, we can't even call them "enemies" - they're insurgents. Essentially the american public is trying to have non-confrontational war. We can shoot them dead, but we can't call them names.

This tension of tolerance and war can only continue as our world gets smaller and smaller. Collisions of belief will happen more and more. Post-modernism and relitivism won't last much longer - and contrary to popular Christian thinking it won't be argued away with a quick-witted debate full of big names and hard evidence.

Ironically, it looks as if violence may turn out to be the answer. Tolerance is no match for man's depravity. Open-minded acceptance is no match for fear. "Self-Help Righteousness" devoid of God Himself will eventually self destruct and fall apart in bloody conflict.

War is not the glamorous picture we paint it to be. It's not a bunch of teenage guys reenacting scenes from Braveheart. It's mud and trenches and bullets ripping through you. It hurts and it costs. But somewhere in the midst of it, the Church will be beautiful. Love will disarm as Martyrs' blood cries out. The peacemakers will be called Blessed in that day.

Jesus, Me, and Lawn Furniture

Two weeks ago at New Day, a leader in the congregation shared a revelation he'd had from the Lord regarding certain members of the church and where their hearts were postured. The Lord began by giving him an image in the spirit of an outdoor area - like a patio or a courtyard. It was a beautiful place, with a fountain and stones and sunshine, but it was absolutely full of the most hideous lawn furniture imaginable. Wicker sofas, neon umbrellas, plastic pillars, fake flowers, inflatable chairs - they were all there. In fact, there was so many of these tacky outdoor accessories that one could hardly stand on the patio at all. It was anything but a tasteful and enjoyable place to spend time.

This leader went on to explain that he felt that this patio represented the hearts of many in the congregation - places that have become overrun with overwhelming externals - things like the worries of life, relational offenses, religious performance and regulations, busyness, or just boredom. "In fact," he continued, "There is so much junk that many of you don't even want to go outside anymore. You've taken one look at that patio and walked in the other direction. You don't even want to go there."

The ironic thing is that the patio had so much beauty beneath the clutter. It was designed to be a place to enjoy the outdoors. It was meant to be a fun place; a place to breathe fresh air and feel the cool breeze. Instead, it had become downright ugly.

The second image the Lord gave him was of the same patio, only this time it was empty. No lawn furniture in sight. Just green grass, flowers, stones, and a fountain in the middle. He said the view was beautiful. It was so simple, elegant, and enjoyable. The kind of place where you could just sit for hours at a time.

The images and words this leader shared have really stuck with me for the past two weeks. I don't know who else in that little church needed to hear it, but I know that I did. It was a word for me. It's a snapshot of my heart - a place that was designed for simple communion with God, but has become cluttered to the point where I don't even want to go 'outside' anymore. Things like disillusionment with church culture, misunderstanding, offense, loneliness, and boredom have all but covered up my patio. The invitation now is to clean house.

As I choose to let go of these stumbling blocks, I'm beginning to clear the patio and rediscover the stone floor. It's so like the Devil to take the most beautiful thing in creation - knowing God - and dress it up until it looks like a chore. I've played the fool and I've believed that the plastic pillars and the neon umbrellas belonged there on that patio - that they were part of the deal. What I've forgotten is the most basic truth: that God is beautiful, and that my heart was meant first and foremost to be an enjoyable place where I could spend time in the great outdoors.

So, I'm trying to humble myself and to do the "first things" again. Things like reading the Bible because I actually want to. Praying. Taking walks. Forgetting the lofty things and shelving the hard questions for now. Clearing space. Abiding in the vine. Taking it slow. Going outside.

Do You Want to Be Well?

This is the question that Jesus asked before healing a certain man in the scriptures. It's a question that he asks me too. My answer sometimes doesn't come easy.

This week in church Lloyd spoke about Jesus calling the poor in spirit "blessed." Apparently, the phrase "poor in spirit" is most accurately translated as "reduced to a state of begging dependency." Most of us feel desperate. It's the dependency thing that we've yet to touch. Lloyd went on to talk about the difference between authentic brokenness and counterfeit brokenness. True brokenness is a very healthy place to be, and in fact a blessing is promised, but it's easier to step into the other place - the place of false brokenness.

People in false brokenness tend to camp out there. They thrive in its soil, and the old saying is indeed true: misery loves company. Healing sounds great, but honestly... who are we going to talk to once we get free? You have to admit, it's incredibly satisfying to associate with a few others in weakness, patting each other's backs and licking our self-inflicted wounds. Sure we're screwed up, but at least we have each other. It may be a boat full of holes we're sailing in, but isn't it good to know we're going under together?

It's counterfeit community - a fellowship that ignores things like change and transformation and replaces them with "sympathy" and "humility."

Even something like healing is not without a cost. Healing means the end of self pity. It's the end of excuses and the beginning of follow-through on the demands of Christ. I'm like a child who doesn't want to take his medicine because I know that getting well means the end of the days in bed, the bowls of ice cream, and the hallmark cards (never mind that I'll be able to eat my favorite foods again, play outside, and fill my lungs with fresh air).

The truly poor in spirit are blessed, but only because they get the Kingdom; not because suffering in itself means anything extraordinary.

As God shepherds me on this path through feelings of suspicion and offense, it takes a concentrated effort on my part not to camp out along the trail and indulge in the fantasy that my bitterness is somehow mature; that it's romantic or glamorous or cool.

In the meantime, Jesus asks me again: Do you want to be well?

Walking the Line

It can be a fine line between freedom and bondage; between healthy and unhealthy. It's one thing to fight for freedom, to reject conformity and religious bondage. It's quite another thing to pridefully and stubbornly separate yourself for separation's sake.

I've camped out in a lot of this tension since moving here. The line I'm walking is the difference between two choices. The first option is to politely say no to another man's yoke and continue on my way without offense. The second option is to feel threatened - to stand far off clinging to my precious rights and my bitterness - pointing fingers at everyone else. There has been much overlap here. There are days when I preserve a tenderness before God, and then there are days when I play the part of the older brother in the prodigal story. Sometimes I manage to hold my tongue, and other times I let loose sharp words hoping for shock value; for attention-getting and for boat-rocking.

The past few days, the Lord has been taking me by the hand and pointing my finger back towards myself - back where it belongs. "Christian Culture" is not the problem (it is so tempting to believe this). The Church could get a global make-over in methodology and theology and it wouldn't change how I feel. How could it? The Church does not own the truth. God owns truth. Truth is a man named Jesus. And Truth is what has the potential to offend and to cut deeply. At the end of the day, my feelings of tension are directed towards this Offensive Man, this stumbling block on whom I must daily fall.

I believe He is faithful to keep shining this spotlight on my heart day after day. He is graciously and patiently dealing with me now, in these years of merciful calm before the storm.

On Earth As It Is In Sunday School

The will of God can at times feel more like hostile take-over than like a gentle friendship. He is certainly a demanding God, isn’t he? Always wanting more of us. Always changing things around. Always moving and stealing away the things and the people we love. God disrupts our lives and steals the show. He doesn’t exactly share the spotlight with anyone.

If I’m honest, there’s still a part of my heart that sinks when I think of God’s rule and reign taking first place in my life. The gospels begin to feel like I’m watching God sort out the coins of Glory and Fame. I sit across from Him, watching him separate the praises into little piles. Now let’s see, he says, ten for me, and none for you. Ten for me, and none for you. Ten for me and none for you. Ten for me…

That God gets everything (and is in fact worthy of it all) is quite something. Not easy to swallow, really. Our pride takes the first blow, and it’s a hard one. He’s God and I’m not - truly. But I think it’s more than pride that makes me afraid of God’s rule taking first place in my life.

I think it’s that I still have no idea what His Kingdom is going to be like. I’m not particularly excited about God’s Kingdom taking over the planet because half the time I picture Church Culture taking over. That’s not exactly an awe-inspiring thought to me. It’s a world where nobody smokes or drinks; where all songs share the same four chords and every painting has a cross in it. Days are begun with worship services and concluded with Bible Studies (with prayer meetings in between). Everyone is home schooled. Everyone’s name tag reads “Brother” or “Sister,” and every sentence ends with “God Bless you.”



It’s a sterile, white bread world.

More than a fear of losing my pride or giving up sinful pleasures, I think what I really fear about God’s Kingdom coming to earth is a loss of creativity – that everyone will suddenly become clones. Things like poetry, culture, and rock and roll will have to be exchanged for hymnals, shofars, and tambourines. Oh boy. The Western church is so predictably bland today that to think of our present agenda actually succeeding sometimes gives me the chills.

Usually if I find myself offended at the prospect of God showing up and taking over the planet – stealing the very gaze of creation for all eternity – it’s that I’ve once again confused Church Culture with Christ. Luckily, God’s Kingdom is bigger than our agendas and artistic preferences. Whether we’re advocating the Republican Party, the worship movement, non-smoking restaurants, or the Ten Commandments in schools, the truth is this: The Creator is coming to rule. He’s coming to bow every knee before Him. His Kingdom is bigger than us. The Kingdom on earth as it is in Heaven will not burn away what is good, earthy, and human (contrary to popular belief, “human” and “sinful” are not synonyms). It will bring more Freedom and Beauty than we can yet imagine – and my guess is that it will come as quite a surprise to us.

Community and the Real Me

Somewhere down the line I have picked up the idea that it's only in our time alone that we see what's really inside of our hearts. While fellowship is important, it's in the alone times that we get the most authentic glimpse of who we are on the inside. Many a teenager has returned from a Christian camp or conference after an amazing time of growth, only to be warned that their spiritual high will quickly fade. "As soon as you leave the friends and the fun behind," we tell them, "you'll see how much of that amazing experience was genuine." These are our magical tests of Christian Authenticity: Time spent alone. The daily grind. Isolation from external encouagement.

The challenge becomes this: Can I maintain the life I lived for Jesus in the midst of the worshiping crowds when it's just me in my bedroom? Can I make choices for Holiness on both Sunday and Monday mornings?

It's true that there is often times a difference in our behavior depending on whether or not we're alone. That's a given. The majority of my choices to sin happen when I'm alone. There's no denying that the internal, secret life is important to address. My problem is that we've come to believe that being alone is the test of an authentic heart.

Let's say that I go to a prayer meeting with my friends and sing my heart out to the Lord in worship. I encourage the others, graciously serve my brother, and am fascinated by the Word. Then, the next morning, I am alone. I ignore the Word and watch TV instead. I don't serve my brother - I get careless with my eyes in lust. I tolerate slander and envy in my thinking. I entertain and enjoy my sin.

Here is the question: Which person is the real me - and why?

Most of us would be quick to say that the times when we are alone demonstrate who we truly are. We are quick to point to our secret habits as evidence that we haven't quite "arrived." We feel two-faced and hypocritical in a crowd. When we love God in a group we feel like it's somehow cheap or fake. In fact, we're suspicious of ever embracing what God does in our hearts until we see how it plays out when we're alone. If you can't walk it out in your personal life, it's not really "in" you. Keep trying.

I think a lot of damage has been done by believing this stuff. If our time alone is the only situation in which we are authentic before God, what is the Body for? If this is true, then Church becomes nothing but a weekly meeting for hypocrites. If this is true, we suddenly have need to repent of fellowship.

Could it be that we actually see a more authentic self in times of community? In reality, our friends help us to be our true selves. They reach down and help us to live from the good that is already a reality in our hearts. They remind us over and over who we really are.

Never think that your Christianity isn't real unless you can pull it off in secret. Your secret life is important, but your life in community really does count. God himself is a fellowship of Persons. We are a community of believers. I need you to help me be real. It's an authentic, genuine thing to walk with others. You are not a crutch to me - you are a brother or sister that sharpens me like iron on iron.

Assumptions and Mistrust

Love believes all things. Yes, to believe all things means to believe that love is there – even though love is not apparent, even though the opposite is seen. Mistrust takes the very foundation away. Unlike love, mistrust cannot build up. Love hopes all things. Despite all appearances to the contrary, love firmly trusts that love will eventually show itself, even in the deluded, in the misguided, and in the lost.
-Soren Kierkegaard

Mistrust is a subtle and effective stumbling block for many of us. I don’t mean the kind of mistrust that suspects someone to be a liar or a con man. This issue is so much more than whether or not the truth has been told. I’m talking about the times that we, in mistrust, bring our own prejudices and expectations as baggage and heap them on the table of our friendships. I’m talking about making premature assumptions about people that can have serious consequences.

I notice a tendency in myself and in other Christians to jump to conclusions and to take a defensive posture long before any threats have been uttered. I heard a preacher speaking this weekend about the opposition that we Christians will face from the church as we truly begin to walk out the things of God. The reality is, we will face opposition, and yes, many times it will come from right inside the church walls. It’s foolish to think otherwise, and it is, in fact, a wise thing to prepare for the opposition that Jesus promised would come to us on account of the word. But something in me was grieved that we are so quick to mistrust our brothers and sisters. It’s like we’ve been programmed to be fundamentally defensive in our strategy, and defensiveness doesn’t come for free.

In preparing to face opposition from “the religious”, it’s common to talk about an anonymous, corporate body of church-goers that will set themselves against the truly righteous. The problem is, the world isn’t made up of anonymous people, and neither is the church. People are real. The minute it gets down to a personal level; to a one-on-one scenario with another person, the suspicion of betrayal or misunderstanding becomes deadly. When you’re dealing with real people - people with skin and names and faces - it’s suddenly very important that you drop your assumptions about them and love them enough to actually trust them.

What does this mean? It means that sometimes I love my neighbor by giving him the benefit of the doubt. It means that in the courtroom of my heart, my brother is innocent until proven guilty. Too often we (out of rejection) perceive opposition and just shut down. Flight over fight. That isn’t love. Jesus didn’t avoid the Pharisees – he had dinner with them. How many times must Christ have noticed the Chief Priests approaching him, knowing full well that a fight was coming? And yet he didn’t run – he stayed and listened to what they had to say. Day after day, he patiently and honestly spoke with them. Love hoped all things – hoped that each day would be the day that they would surrender to His love. Even those who have a history of opposing us deserve the dignity of our present trust and our present love. His love is new every morning, and ours should be as well.

I don’t want to use my prejudice as protection or as an exemption from loving my neighbor. For a teenager, it means that you don’t just assume that your parents won’t understand you. Talk to them anyway. If you’re a missionary, it means that you don’t assume the church down the road won’t support your denomination. Ask anyway. If you’re in the Charismatic movement, don’t just assume that the organ playing Methodist church down the street is dead and asleep. Give your brother some credit. Trust that love can and will show itself in your neighbor.

If we insist on looking through the lens of mistrust, we will certainly create many enemies for ourselves. I’m not saying that real opposition won’t come to us, but I am saying that much of our perceived opposition is “self-fulfilling prophecy.” When we walk around waiting for opposition, anyone who we are unsure about becomes a potential backstabber. That is not what it looks like to walk in trust! It is never fair to blindly assume that someone will hurt you or misunderstand you. Withholding love to protect yourself is never the answer. Give them the benefit of the doubt. If they do prove to be your enemy, at least they were given the dignity of being trusted as you loved them and let them near you. And as you suffer in the hurt that is sure to come, drink it down as the Father’s cup for you, and take joy in knowing that you did not repay evil with evil, but with good. **

Lay down your assumptions and live in trust - day after day. Don’t shut down to those that may possibly offend or misquote you. Perhaps they will and perhaps they won’t! If they indeed live up to your prejudices, you will have loved them in their weakness. And if they shatter your low expectations, the surprise and relief you will feel at having found an unexpected friend will be a gift from Heaven.


** I want to be clear that I am not trying to endorse the toleration of any patterns of abuse – there is wisdom in maintaining healthy boundaries, and many times the most loving thing one can do is to remove themselves from a harmful situation or a habitually abusive relationship.

The Cost of Defensiveness

"Many sufferings can assault a person, and worldly wisdom knows many remedies in defense. But all these remedies have the dismal quality that they save the body but kill the soul. They invigorate the body but deaden the spirit."
-Soren Kierkegaard

I'm moving slower
I take a little longer
But I'm healing deeper
I'm feeling stronger
And it's tearing down defenses
And opening my senses
To the wonder of a Lover
Crying out
- Jason Upton, "Where Fools Turn to Gold"


Funny things start to happen when you are suddenly surrounded by people of like heart.
When a soldier who has spent his whole life on an outpost gets relocated to the central headquarters, he suddenly looks around and notices that he is not the only man who can shoot a gun, scale a wall, or travel through the jungle without a sound.

Back in Oxford, I wouldn't have said that I attached much of my value or identity to my spiritual gifts. I had already learned that lesson years ago - actually I had learned it a few times. God doesn't love me because of what I do, but because of who I am. Christianity 101. But now that I'm surrounded here by literally hundreds of other "prophetic-intercessor-worship-people," I'm feeling a little lost in the crowd. You see, around here it is not a unique thing at all to have a prayer life. It is not a unique thing to have prophetic insight in and around your life. It's not an unusual thing to know the scriptures really well. It's not even unique to be truly passionate in loving other people.

I didn't realize how much these qualities still mattered to me until I found myself in a place where they're not special anymore. I am no longer one of a handful of intercessors - I am one in a thousand - literally.

What happens naturally for me is that the walls start to go up. I start to rationalize my spirituality. I start to play games of criticizing and fault-finding in others. I suddenly want to do different things and go different places than everyone else. I begin to grab onto anything to set me apart from the nameless and faceless crowd.

I'm different, you know.

The problem with this defensive posture is that it "saves the body but kills the soul." There is a cost to self preservation - a high cost. It's been a battle against rejection and insecurity since coming here, and the only way to fight is to put down my weapons - to abandon my attempts to defend myself.

My prayer is that the Lord would tear down my defenses - that he would quiet that ravenous desire in me to somehow separate myself - whether it looks like lifting myself up or pushing others down. Both come at a cost, and it's not worth it.

Keys

Every so often, someone will say something that echoes with me for years to come. As time passes, I keep finding myself coming back to little phrases - "keys" - that were given to me in my spiritually formative years. One that has held me fast lately is something that a friend spoke to me many years ago while on a missions trip to Monterrey, Mexico. He reminded me that "we are never changed in order to gain access to God's presence. Rather, it's in His presence that we are changed."

At the time, it was helpful and insightful, but certainly not worthy of "jaw-dropping-I-think-I-need-a-minute" awe or anything. But as time has gone by, those two simple sentences have been cooking in my spirit and have helped to dramatically shape who I am today. I'm sure my friend has no memory of speaking those words to me, but God snatched up those phrases like keys to His Kingdom and hung them on my heart. In my life there are many, many words like that; many glimpses of Wisdom that my brothers and sisters have given me over the years. It's nice to know that they'll be there when I need them the most - whether it's tomorrow, or perhaps ten years from now.

Quarter Life Crisis

Okay, I know I'm only 23... but here are four things that have made me feel really old lately.

1. The music in church is too loud.
2. The majority of my socks are black.
3. I listen to NPR on my drive to work.
4. Last night I referred to a group of teens as "young people."

To combat this, I'm going to go see Spiderman 3, and maybe I'll get a jumbo popcorn... and a tattoo.

Born Again

"For you have been born again not of seed which is perishable, but imperishable, that is, through the living and enduring word of God. For all flesh is like grass, and its glory like the flower of the field. The grass withers and the flower fades, but the word of the Lord remains forever. Like newborn babes, long for the pure milk of the word, so that by it you may grow in respect to salvation."
- 1 Peter 1:23-25, 2:2

There is unbelievable dignity on our lives. The metaphor of being "born again" has been overused and casually glossed over in Church culture to such an extent that we have lost touch with nearly all of its power. But hidden behind the veil of familiarity is a powerful window into reality.

In saying "yes" to the mercy of Jesus, He has caused us to be reborn of new seed. This isn't the latest twelve-step program, nor is it helpful hints for people who are a little "off-track." It is a new and different life. The "imperishable seed" speaks of nothing less than the very "sperm" of God Almighty - all the legitimacy and dignity and sanctity of life is present at your rebirth, as the very seed of the creator "conceives you" in the spirit. Right now, through the living and enduring word of God, I possess the DNA of God the Father inside of me. It is who I am at the most basic level. Being made of "God's genes" means that I have his features. This is stunning. One is able to look at me and say, "yes, he has Jesus' eyes." I look like my Father, not due to human effort, but because I was conceived of Divine Intent, knit together in my mother's womb.

The other thing about rebirth is that it levels the playing field. A seventy year old man is suddenly reduced to infant status. All the lessons learned from the world, all experience in the ways of the flesh, all the names and titles received from men - suddenly gone; stripped off like grave clothes. Naked and crying in the blinding light of day, like a newborn you find yourself in need of absolutely everything to be provided for you. The reason you "long for the pure milk of the word" is this: you have never eaten before. Your entire life has been spent feasting on imaginary food. The sustenance of eternity has yet to touch your tongue. The cry of a newborn is a cry for nutrients - for that which nourishes and satisfies and allows growth. So it is in the Spirit: after a life spent eating vanities and deceptions, the desperate heart cry of a believer is for that which is truly healthy; that which puts meat on your bones and builds up the Life of the Kingdom deep inside.

God, feed us on eternity. We come to you as those who have barely eaten real food. We need nutrients. We need the substance of your ways - the presence of purity. Give us your righteousness as bread that fills us. Let us see the imperishable dignity and the enduring destiny over our lives. The very Word of God has conceived us, and in your mercy you have written eternity on our hearts.

The Humanity of Jesus Means Accessibility

There are times when I hit the wall and realize that I'm just not good at this whole Christianity thing. I am far too mundane; far too concerned with literal, concrete, "down to earth" things. My heart beats faster when I go swimming in cool water on a hot day, when I enjoy a good meal, hear a symphony, or see a beautiful woman. But what about meditating on the Heavenly Jerusalem? Desiring the Kingdom on the Earth? Seeing what the Seraphim see when they gaze upon the rainbow-sardius-jasper-emerald throne?

Do I have a pulse?

It's a much more difficult thing to perceive and appreciate emotionally the beauty and the pleasure of God's ways. David calls them "great matters" and "things too difficult for me" (Psalm 131). God is just too Holy sometimes. The Kingdom is too spiritual. I just don't get it. I can focus on it for about two or three weeks (at most).

I can remember hitting this point in Mexico a few years back. I was there doing an internship with a Christian ministry to widows, orphans, and those below the poverty line. The first three weeks were great - they felt just like a mission trip. I was learning great spiritual lessons, excited to be serving, loving people, and engaged in the worship times. Then, right around week four, it caught up with me: my humanity. I began thinking about TV shows and movies. I began to think about returning to college in a few months. I started to remember my friends back home. I laughed at jokes. I thought about jazz music, and food and drink, and Wal Mart. Everything mundane and frighteningly practical came flooding over me in a single foul swoop. I had hit my wall. My ability to focus and have my heart engaged with an ethereal, unseen version of God had up and gone. But what else was there? What happens when God's children grow weary and can no longer appreciate the lofty majesty of the Unseen God?

God becomes one of us.

The fact that Jesus became a man first and foremost means to me that he made himself utterly accessible. For those of us who just can't quite grasp the lofty nature of the Divine One, the Man Jesus says to us "It's okay... just look at me, because believe it or not, I look just like the Father." Jesus is the act of God stooping to our level. All of a sudden, the formerly incomprehensible compassion of God hits me. Not only is God on His Throne in heaven, but he is washing the dirt off of my feet with a towel. Not only does God in heaven hear my prayer, but God in the flesh sits down at my dinner table and has seconds.

The more I try to contemplate the Glory of God and the Beauty of His ways, the more I'm finding that it's the humanity of Jesus that touches me most deeply. Allen Hood, a leader at IHOP, says that the majesty of God on his throne will cause you to worship Him, but the humanity of Jesus is what will cause you to love Him. That God became man means that God became approachable, visible, and understandable. What was formerly incomprehensible in Holiness now is tactile, sensory, and even sympathetic. God taking on flesh means that I don't have to strive to live my life in heavenly realms of glory where God lives (although one day, I will!). The situation is actually reversed: God is striving to reach down into the place where I am living. I love what Jason Upton says - that the heart cry of God is not "Open up the Heavens," but "Open up the Earth!"

Embrace the simple things. Learn to appreciate that God has put himself on display once and for all in the humanity of Jesus. The next time you find yourself longing to gaze on the beauty of God, you may just find yourself staring at the face of a man.

Saying No to Numbness

One thing that I have appreciated being in Kansas City and hanging around IHOP is the conviction of reality that people here press in for. In the wake of the Virginia Tech shootings and other troubling recent events, there has been a lot of fervent intercession for this dying generation. In a culture that bombards us with anesthesia and makes us numb to the tragedies occurring daily, I'm beginning to feel the sting again.

Things are not what they seem. Things in America are much worse than we've told ourselves, and our need is much more urgent than we know. The lost among us do not belong to a generation of "good intentioned yet sadly deceived" people. We are living among a generation that hates God, and will continue in the spirit of death until God brings His merciful re-birth. We do not simply need guidance or correction - we need transformation. We are not "a little off track" - we are steeped in depravity and are reaping the fruit.

From where I come from, this is a message that has been minimized and had its edges softened. The general feeling is that if you have a prayer life, read the Bible, and serve others, you're doing pretty well. But the message here is always a cry for more. We do not realize how serious the situation has become.

Consider the following statistics taken from the Barna Group website:

- By the time an American child is 23 years old, as was the killer in Virginia, he will have seen countless murders among the more than 30,000 acts of violence to which he is exposed through television, movies and video games.

- By the age of 23, the average American will have viewed thousands of hours of pornographic images, which diminish the dignity and value of human life.

- The average adolescent spends more than 40 hours each week digesting media, and the typical teenager in America absorbs almost 60 hours of media content each week. For better or worse, the messages received from the media represent a series of unfiltered, unchaperoned worldview lessons.

- One-third of the nation’s teenagers report having been in a physical fight at least once in the last year. Nearly one out of every five 9th through 12th grade students has carried a gun, knife or club in the past month.

- It appears that as many as one out of every five young people is or has been under the influence of mood-altering medications, some of whose long-term side effects are not fully understood by the medical community. Drugging children has become one of the ways in which we have coped with other issues.


God, have mercy and wake us up to show real love to a dying generation.

Small Things

I believe it was Mother Teresa who observed that "there are many people who can do great things for God, but few people who will do small things for Him."

A woman I work with told me the other day that she trusted me more than any of our other co-workers. Mind you, I have been with the company for 6 weeks, and some of the others have been there for many years. It's taken only six weeks for her to decide that I am a trustworthy person who is kind and who would not take advantage of her. And why is that? Why is she able to see this fruit of the Spirit in my character? Because I don't cuss at work. Because I show up on time. Because I took out the trash for her once. Because I say "please" and "thank you." For real - it's the stupid, insignificant, and mundane things.

She doesn't know me nearly well enough to know that I have a prayer life, that I have studied the Bible or fasted before, that I have spiritual gifts, or that I have spent time serving orphans in Mexico. She has no idea the "big things" I do for the kingdom. All she sees are the little things. And they're enough to convince her that I am trustworthy.

I spent zero time and effort "cultivating" the things that were noticed by this woman (or perhaps it's more accurate to say that the cultivating happened many years ago and i have long since forgotten about it!). I did not have to work up a desire for any of it. I simply did what now comes naturally to me.

So, as we are caught up in trying to pursue the Lord, and striving to be passionate and radical, let's not forget that more often than not it's the little things that impact people deeply. And, what's more, I'm beginning to embrace the fact that it's the little things that capture the Father's heart as well. The things that most "impress" the Father about our daily lives are the things that we have long-since forgotten about.

With all our focus on "pressing in" and "contending for breakthrough," it's funny to see things like not cussing or emptying a trash can bring fruit and impact in the lives of others. The Power from heaven comes not only in the things for which I faithfully strive, but also in the little things that don't even enter into my thinking.

The Mirror of The Cross

"After these things Joseph of Arimathea, being a disciple of Jesus, but a secret one for fear of the Jews, asked Pilate that he might take away the body of Jesus; and Pilate granted permission. So he came and took away His body. Nicodemus, who had first come to Jesus by night, also came, bringing a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about a hundred pounds weight. So they took the body and bound it in linen wrappings with the spices, as is the burial custom of the Jews."
- John 19:38-40

The cross has the profound effect that it brings out of people what is necessary for the moment. It is like a mirror into which we stare and see only what we need to see of ourselves. The disciples were faithful to lay aside their plans and follow Christ for three years, but when faced with the cross, they all fled. When they looked at the mirror of the cross, they saw that Judas was in fact not the only betrayer among them. They each came face to face with the fact that they had it in them to be a denier and a betrayer. They were finally able to see that Christ's mercy was absolutely necessary, and was necessary in an inescapably personal sense. As the shepherd was stricken, the sheep were scattered - much to their own surprise and alarm.

What is extraordinary is that in the midst of this scattering, the Father "filled in the cracks" and provided two men who would care for Jesus in His hour of need. And this last minute provision of friends came from some unlikely places.

If you recall, Nicodemus was a Pharisee with whom Jesus spoke about being "born again" in John 3. He was intrigued and full of curiosity upon hearing Christ's teaching, but was afraid to be seen speaking openly with Jesus, so he came to Him in secret - in the middle of the night. It is also mentioned that Nicodemus was present in another instance when His fellow Pharisees were confronting Christ. During Jesus' life, Nicodemus was a skeptical Pharisee who was steeped in Religion and petrified by a fear of man. How fascinating that he suddenly found courage at the cross to step forward and care for the body of Jesus. And his sacrifice was no small investment. The scriptures say that the amount of burial spices this Pharisee brought with him to the tomb was one hundred pounds - comparable to what would be fitting for burying a member of royalty. Through the cross, a lifestyle of cautious observation was instantly transformed into a life of extravagant giving and personal involvement.

Likewise, Joseph of Arimathea is described a "secret disciple" who kept his distance for fear of the Jews. He didn't accompany Jesus in his earthly ministry, he probably had never preached the Kingdom or healed the sick, and he definitely wasn't present at the intimate gathering of Jesus' friends called The Last Supper. Joseph of Arimathea was simply too scared to follow Christ while He was alive, but face to face with the cross he was changed. The Gospel of mark says that Nicodemus "gathered up his courage and went in before Pilate to ask for the body of Jesus."

The cross brings to the surface what we need to see in ourselves. For the disciples, who saw themselves as Jesus' faithful friends, the mirror of the cross showed them their denial, blindsiding them with the revelation that they each had it in them to despise their lover and reject their Lord. However for Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, who viewed themselves (at best) as cowardly "secret admirers" of Christ, the cross did the opposite. It provoked them to do for Jesus in His death what they were unwilling to do for Him in Life - to be a friend and a servant to Him. When they stared into the mirror of the cross, they discovered that they had what it took to be a worshiper.

The cross is the great equalizer - it causes the strong to weep over their brokenness, and it gives the weak strength to love without fear. It levels the playing field, and shows each of us exactly what we need to see in ourselves.

Kindness that Leads to Repentance

Being Good Friday, there was a devotional set this afternoon in the prayer room that explored Peter's denial of Christ. It was excellent, and made me think of these beautiful words which I re-read today and decided to share here:

"Consider how Christ looked on Peter, once he had denied Jesus. Was it a repelling look, a look of rejection? No. It was a look such as a mother gives her child when the child is in danger due to its own indiscretion. Was Peter in danger, then? Alas, we do not understand how serious it is for one to betray his friend.

But in the passion of anger or hurt the injured friend cannot see that it is the denier who is in danger. Yet the Savior saw clearly that it was Peter who was in danger, not Him, and that it was Peter who needed saving. The Savior of the world did not make the mistake of regarding His cause as lost because Peter did not hurry to help Him. Rather, He saw Peter as lost if he did not hurry to save him.

Christ's love for Peter was so boundless that in loving Peter he accomplished loving the person one sees. He did not say, 'Peter, you must first change and become another man before I can love you again.' No, he said just the opposite: 'Peter, you are Peter and I love you; love, if anything, will help you to become a different person.'

Christ did not break off His friendship with Peter, and then renew it again when Peter had become a different man. No, He preserved the friendship and in this way helped Peter to become a different man. Do you think that Peter would have ever been won again without such faithful love?"

- Soren Kierkegaard, Provocations


The Love of God is truly a beautiful thing.

Passion Week

One of the most remarkable things about Jesus is how he was able to ignore the voices of men that flooded Him with both opposition and praise. And it wasn't that he just gritted his teeth and tuned them out - he wasn't thrown by man's opinion precisely because he saw what was really going on. He was always peering around the corner to see what was coming next. Things were never as they seemed.

On Palm Sunday, Jesus rode into Jerusalem as a king with coats laid before him, with shouts of "Hosana," and with the praise ordained for Him from the lips of infants and babes. Five days later he was murdered - hanging naked and nailed to a cross.

Reading the scriptures, I can tend to loose sight of how quickly it all happened. How many people who shouted "Hosana" on Monday also shouted "Crucify Him" on Friday? Undoubtedly many voices uttered both phrases (take the disciples as proof). Man's approval is like the house built on sand. When the going gets tough, it suddenly crumbles beneath your feet.

What was Jesus feeling when the crowds cheered Him into Jerusalem to make him King? Was he tempted to entertain their wishes and take the throne then and there? Was there a moment when he thought the Father's cup had passed from him?

Or was the situation heartbreaking in its irony - perhaps He studied the cheering crowds and silently picked out those who would curse him a few days later.

One thing is certain: Jesus was not fooled by man's approval, but set His face like flint and kept his eyes on the Father - and the Father's approval - from Monday all the way till Friday.

FYI

So, I just realized that I had my settings fixed to where only other blogspot.com users could comment on my posts, but I just changed those settings. Now anyone should be able to leave comments on here - and please do. I Like to keep in touch this way and would love to hear your thoughts. Just click the "other" category and leave your name and/or blog.

Tension

If you've read my last 2 posts on suffering, you've probably figured out that I tend to chew on ideas for long periods of time and don't come to conclusions quickly. Sometimes it's a gift, like a greenhouse for wisdom and revelation. And other times it feels like my entire life is lived inside my head and I am deceiving myself by storing up a wealth of good intentions, but little more. For example, in learning about suffering and sacrifice, it's frustrating for me to have my eyes open to the beauty of the Kingdom, but then to be in a place where my life feels as if I am not living it. I'm sure reading all that Kierkegaard didn't help either (does my theology even exist or matter if I'm not living it?).

But even though it often feels as if my meditations are sectioned off like a TV dinner from the nitty-gritty nine-to-five, there are also times (like tonight) where I see that my thought life really does matter. Tonight in the prayer room much of the focus was on praying for a particular IHOPer who is scheduled for surgery tomorrow morning. Prayers for physical healing and restoration rose up all over the room. It was a truly beautiful thing... and most of the time I was wrestling with a tightness in my heart.

It seems with all my meditation on bearing up under suffering, sacrifice, accepting pain, etc., I've really gotten cloudy as far as my prayer life is concerned. What have I come to believe about God's intentions, anyway? When a brother or sister is suffering, I am no longer one hundred percent comfortable praying for their well-being. This bothers me.

I know that God desires to heal. Look at Jesus. Manifest compassion and release of the prisoners is everywhere. But my heart is also so ready to drink the cup of suffering, because I can now see the beautifying process it brings - like when, under pressure, an irritating dust particle becomes a pearl, or sand becomes a diamond. I know in my head that both approaches are good, biblical, and beneficial.

The main tension comes, like I said, when it gets past the meditating and down to the practical. When I'm supposed to pray for the sick or feed the poor, all of the sudden it feels as if God's intentions are foggy. Does he desire healing, wealth, and prosperity every time? No. Does he have a cold, stoic heart that makes us go through hell just to learn a lesson and build some character? Again, no.

I found out tonight that I don't really know how to handle suffering in others anymore - whether to rebuke it as a theif or to welcome it as a teacher. It's a disconcerting thing, and it has me bothered.

Suffering unto Rewards

Since my last post, I have been reminded of some truths that are important to keep hold of if we are to understand suffering and sacrifice in a healthy way.

Last night, Mike Bickle preached a message dealing with the Millennial Kingdom, and in it he made the observation that Jesus more often than not used rewards as motivation to his followers. Take the Beatitudes as an example. The demands made in those verses are some of the most repulsive ideas in scripture. Jesus wants a people who are poor in spirit, who mourn, are hungry and thirsty, and are insulted and persecuted for righteousness' sake. No one naturally gravitates towards these things. No one listens to that job description and says "sign me up!" But thankfully, Jesus doesn't end there. For each area of self-contradiction and suffering, a heavenly reward is promised. Why am I blessed to mourn? Because I will be comforted by the hand of the Father that wipes away every tear and seats me in a house where sorrow will be no more. Why am I blessed to be beaten for the gospel or ostracized by my friends and coworkers? Because Jesus says great is my reward in heaven. The question is not so much "do I want to loose my life," but "do I want to gain it?"

For a long time, the Lord has had my heart meditating on the "loss" side of the coin and not the "gain" side. And make no mistake - meditating on the "losses" has been absolutely amazing, and has done nothing but lead me to love Him more. Gazing at meekness and voluntary abuse has been one of the most profound lessons I have ever learned. I pray that I can continue to gaze at the beauty of sacrificial love for years to come. But it's important not to forget the other side. When it comes down to it, all these sacrifices are about temporary denial for eternal gain. Even Jesus endured the cross "for the joy set before him" and for "the rewards of His suffering." How much more should I take rewards in to account in my suffering?

The thing is, it's kind of hard to admit that I actually want rewards. One thing that Mike said was that many Christians (myself included at times) have this idea that we should love and sacrifice only for love and sacrifice's sake. We act as if loving Jesus is enough simply because it's "the right thing to do" and because it pleases God. It's a romantic thought, but if you've ever tried it out for any length of time, you know that it comes up short. And what's more, shouldn't we take a hint from Jesus when he continually offers us rewards in heaven? Maybe - just maybe - he knows what I need more than I do. If He thinks I need rewards as motivation, I probably do.

Over the past year, The Lord has been stirring up a desire in me to walk in sacrifice and to love those who cannot love me back. But I cannot begin to do so unless I am satisfied. It does not work. It is a deception to believe that I can walk in love just because I am "supposed to." Love is indeed the right thing to do, but it is essential that I am satisfied in the midst of sacrifice. As the favor of man and the affirmation of others lessens in my life, I must experience the smile of the Father in order to go on in love. I am wired to seek my own good, and this is not a bad thing when we take it to Jesus. Like I say, this takes some getting used to, and it's downright offensive to my false humility, which opts to politely decline rewards and continue trudging along in noble denial.

So, yes - choose humility. Choose meekness. Choose suffering. But remember that those choices are bringing you an eternal weight of Glory which you will unashamedly enjoy forever. That alone gives you power to embrace the "downward mobility" of the Kingdom.

Welcoming Abuse and Suffering

"In ordinary human suffering there exists no self contradiction. There is no self denial in my wife's dying a natural death - after all, she is mortal. There is no self denial in my losing my possessions - after all, they are perishable. In Christian suffering, however, self contradiction is necessary. It is this that constitutes the possibility of offense. To suffer Christianly is not to endure the inescapable, but to suffer evil at the hands of people because you voluntarily will and endeavor to do only good: to willingly suffer on account of the Word and for the sake of righteousness. This is how Christ suffered. This alone is Christian suffering."
-Soren Kierkegaard

"Servants, be submissive to your masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and gentle, but also to those who are unreasonable. For this finds favor, if for the sake of conscience towards God a person bears up under suffering unjustly. For what credit is there if when you sin, and are harshly treated, you endure it with patience? But if when you do what is right and suffer for it you patiently endure it, this finds favor with God. For this purpose you have been called, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example to follow in His footsteps. And while being reviled, he did not revile in return; while suffering he uttered no threats, but continually entrusted himself to the One who judges justly. Therefore, since Christ has suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same purpose, because he who has suffered in his flesh is done with sin."
-1 Peter 2:18-21, 23-24, 4:1

The idea of suffering has been heavy in my heart for many months now. I haven't exactly come to many solid conclusions, but I am having many previous misconceptions shattered. That counts for something.

For one thing, I've come to question this unspoken rule that we are to "stand up for ourselves" and "defend ourselves." It almost sounds blasphemous to our American ears, but I have begun to at least entertain the possibility that abuse and persecution are not the plagues to be avoided that we preach them for. The western church teaches us to serve, but not to let yourself be "walked all over." Don't let yourself be exploited. Don't let them take advantage of you.

(Don't turn the other cheek?)

Is that biblical? These are serious questions I'm having - I'm not trying to be smart...

"For this finds favor, if for the sake of conscience towards God a person bears up under suffering unjustly."

I'm beginning to see in the scriptures more and more the way Jesus was exploited, abused, manipulated, and abandoned by those around him. And the truly stunning thing is that he allows it and invites it. Powerless man would have no authority over the God-Man unless it was permitted from on high. When Judas betrays Christ in the garden, and Peter vainly attempts to stop it by use of the sword, Jesus rebukes him. He shocks everyone with his next words:

"Peter, do you think that this cup which the Father has given me, that I should not drink it?"

"This cup" is nothing less than total rejection, heart wrenching betrayal, unjust beatings, cold blooded murder of the only innocent man in history, and the very wrath of the Almighty against sin bearing down on a single human being. Jesus does not run away from this. Instead, He runs straight towards it. And what is more, he doesn't point the finger of blame on Satan, Judas, Pilate, Israel, fallen man, or even himself. He points the finger straight at the Father. This is absolutely amazing. How much time is spent by today's theologians trying to neatly shift the blame for human suffering and tragedy off of God? Man is fallen, and there is indeed a devil, but what happens when even unjust suffering is the Father's cup for you? Let's be clear: no one forced Jesus to suffer. Jesus chose it. You and I did not nail his hands to the cross - Love did that. True love (and therefore true Christian suffering) is never manipulated - it is always chosen freely.

I am really wrestling through this. I'm not ready to say we should receive every bit of suffering in our lives without question and just "suck it up" in the name of God. But, I am more than a little troubled that I have grown up in the church my entire life and have never heard this preached. I have never been told that I must choose to suffer. On the contrary, the unspoken (and sometimes spoken) message I have received is that "life is full of suffering - take what inevitably comes your way and let God teach you and refine you through it." This completely ignores the issue of meekness - of having power and comfort and laying it down voluntarily.

The other operative phrase in all of this is that the chosen suffering comes "on account of the Word." There is such a profound difference between a Hurricane Katrina victim and a Chinese pastor beaten to death in front of his children because of involvement in the underground church. Both are loved and valued by God. Both can learn volumes from their trials. But only one has chosen his path - and he has chosen it daily, with his eyes wide open to the danger.

Lord, teach me to embrace suffering as you did, continually entrusting myself to the one who judges righteously. Teach me to lay down my life for the brethren. Teach me how to walk this out in a healthy way.

I welcome your thoughts on this...

Seeing God in Others

I was talking to a friend of mine last night. It was like a tall glass of water. I always enjoy talking to her, but I especially needed it last night, after a sort of lonely/adjustment sort of week. Seems like whenever I talk to her it's been at least a few months since the last time we've spoken, so it's always really easy to see the ways she's changed in that time. And what's more, talking to someone who is changing makes it easier to see the changes in myself. And you know what else? When we look at each other's lives, we see each other getting more and more free. If you feel like you're in a rut or that you haven't changed in a long time, just talk to someone you haven't seen in two years. It's amazing the things God does that we just forget about.

I think it's such a humble thing for God to let me see Jesus through my friends. I love that God "shares himself" that way. He has every right to slap blinders over my eyes and make me stare at Him and Him alone. But God lets my eyes roam free, then He sneaks up on me when I least expect it through my friends, through a song, through a thunderstorm, or through a traffic jam. It is sheer humility and utter creativity for God to speak in such an uninhibited way. He will find a way to speak to me, one way or the other. He is committed. And I especially love it when he chooses to let me look at a friend and end up seeing Jesus.

Another friend of mine was preaching a few weeks ago and described the Trinity as "The Divine Dance." God Himself is a fellowship of persons. How much more should I seek that iron sharpening iron in my brothers and sisters? I love that God is about communion; that he comes in and invites us to a meal with him and with others.