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Sunday, August 11, 2013
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Timing Is Everything
"No human being can tame the tongue. It is a restless evil, full of deadly poison" (Jas. 3:8).
I think many people can identify with James' sentiment. Self-control is a virtue, but one of the areas of life most difficult to control is one's speech. James explains that we have the ability to reign in wild animals, but often can't reign in our own words.
Recently I preached a sermon series from the book of Proverbs. Proverbs, of course, is all about fostering wisdom in the life of the reader, so in the series, the congregation looked at how we can be wise in different spheres of life. What's it mean to be wise with regard to our families? What's it look like to be wise at work? These are major themes in Proverbs. Another theme is one's words. How does a person speak wisely? We took a good look at what Proverbs says on the topic.
As I was studying the various proverbs that mention the tongue during that week before the sermon, I had to try to synthesize them into an idea that listeners could take home with them. What came to the surface in my study was this: Wisdom in your words means to say the right thing at the right time.
It's difficult to say the right thing. But I think most people understand the concept. We know we ought to speak truth rather than lies. We know we ought to be encouraging rather than critical. We know we ought to bless rather than curse. We know we ought to speak kindly rather than cruelly. Proverbs 12:18 says that rash words are like wounds from a sword, while a wise person's words bring healing. To say the right thing is to say what brings healing rather than pain, what builds up rather than tears down.
But wisdom in words doesn't stop there. Wisdom is to say the right thing at the right time. And the more I have thought about it since I preached it, the more convinced I am that this is even more difficult. You can say something that is completely true and honest--something that could be helpful at a certain moment--but when spoken at the wrong time, it does great damage. The wise person knows that there is a time to speak, but that there is also a time to stay silent.
Proverbs 15:23 says, "To make an apt answer is a joy to a man, and a word in season, how good it is!" The words we speak ought to be spoken in season. At the right time. Wisdom means not saying whatever you're thinking all the time. "Whoever restrains his words has knowledge" (Prov. 17:27).
Contemporary culture doesn't help us in this. We live in a world where, as soon as a thought enters your mind, you have the power not only speak it to the person next to you, but to broadcast it all over the world with your laptop or smartphone. In our desire to be heard (and as added bonuses: liked, favorited, retweeted, or replied to), we can say or type words without thinking about the effect they will have on others, or even on ourselves in the long run.
Another problem is that our culture is one that in some ways celebrates those who speak without restraint. We look up to people who speak their mind and who wear their hearts on their sleeves. It seems like such an honest thing--to say what you want to say without caring about what others think. We call it "genuineness" and "authenticity"--two of the greatest virtues in our contemporary culture. But Proverbs just calls it foolishness.
It's easy to spout off words without thinking of consequences. It's much harder to be silent. The truth is that in some cases, you may find yourself in a position where the time never comes to speak a certain thought on your heart and mind. Sometimes it's just best to keep it to yourself. And I think the person of wisdom learns to be okay with that.
(I should mention, in an absurdly insufficient side note, saying the right thing at the right time doesn't just mean being silent. It also means speaking when you ought to speak. I can think of plenty of times that I have been silent when I shouldn't have, in addition to times I have spoken when I shouldn't).
I have a friend named James that I went to college with. James is someone that I would describe as a person of wisdom. You can almost sense it just from being around him. And James isn't someone who speaks a lot. While others guys might go back and forth discussing a topic, he would sit back and listen. Then when he had listened and thought for a moment, he would speak. When he did, others would listen, because they cared about what he had to say.
When I think about wisdom with words--saying the right thing at the right time--I think about my friend James. That's the kind of person I want to grow to be. I don't imagine it's easy, and I'm certainly not very good at it yet.
So until I learn to tame my tongue, I might as well get back to my career as a horse-whisperer who tames wild stallions. We all have to make a living somehow.
I think many people can identify with James' sentiment. Self-control is a virtue, but one of the areas of life most difficult to control is one's speech. James explains that we have the ability to reign in wild animals, but often can't reign in our own words.
Recently I preached a sermon series from the book of Proverbs. Proverbs, of course, is all about fostering wisdom in the life of the reader, so in the series, the congregation looked at how we can be wise in different spheres of life. What's it mean to be wise with regard to our families? What's it look like to be wise at work? These are major themes in Proverbs. Another theme is one's words. How does a person speak wisely? We took a good look at what Proverbs says on the topic.
As I was studying the various proverbs that mention the tongue during that week before the sermon, I had to try to synthesize them into an idea that listeners could take home with them. What came to the surface in my study was this: Wisdom in your words means to say the right thing at the right time.
It's difficult to say the right thing. But I think most people understand the concept. We know we ought to speak truth rather than lies. We know we ought to be encouraging rather than critical. We know we ought to bless rather than curse. We know we ought to speak kindly rather than cruelly. Proverbs 12:18 says that rash words are like wounds from a sword, while a wise person's words bring healing. To say the right thing is to say what brings healing rather than pain, what builds up rather than tears down.
But wisdom in words doesn't stop there. Wisdom is to say the right thing at the right time. And the more I have thought about it since I preached it, the more convinced I am that this is even more difficult. You can say something that is completely true and honest--something that could be helpful at a certain moment--but when spoken at the wrong time, it does great damage. The wise person knows that there is a time to speak, but that there is also a time to stay silent.
Proverbs 15:23 says, "To make an apt answer is a joy to a man, and a word in season, how good it is!" The words we speak ought to be spoken in season. At the right time. Wisdom means not saying whatever you're thinking all the time. "Whoever restrains his words has knowledge" (Prov. 17:27).
Contemporary culture doesn't help us in this. We live in a world where, as soon as a thought enters your mind, you have the power not only speak it to the person next to you, but to broadcast it all over the world with your laptop or smartphone. In our desire to be heard (and as added bonuses: liked, favorited, retweeted, or replied to), we can say or type words without thinking about the effect they will have on others, or even on ourselves in the long run.
Another problem is that our culture is one that in some ways celebrates those who speak without restraint. We look up to people who speak their mind and who wear their hearts on their sleeves. It seems like such an honest thing--to say what you want to say without caring about what others think. We call it "genuineness" and "authenticity"--two of the greatest virtues in our contemporary culture. But Proverbs just calls it foolishness.
It's easy to spout off words without thinking of consequences. It's much harder to be silent. The truth is that in some cases, you may find yourself in a position where the time never comes to speak a certain thought on your heart and mind. Sometimes it's just best to keep it to yourself. And I think the person of wisdom learns to be okay with that.
(I should mention, in an absurdly insufficient side note, saying the right thing at the right time doesn't just mean being silent. It also means speaking when you ought to speak. I can think of plenty of times that I have been silent when I shouldn't have, in addition to times I have spoken when I shouldn't).
I have a friend named James that I went to college with. James is someone that I would describe as a person of wisdom. You can almost sense it just from being around him. And James isn't someone who speaks a lot. While others guys might go back and forth discussing a topic, he would sit back and listen. Then when he had listened and thought for a moment, he would speak. When he did, others would listen, because they cared about what he had to say.
When I think about wisdom with words--saying the right thing at the right time--I think about my friend James. That's the kind of person I want to grow to be. I don't imagine it's easy, and I'm certainly not very good at it yet.
So until I learn to tame my tongue, I might as well get back to my career as a horse-whisperer who tames wild stallions. We all have to make a living somehow.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Living Well While Living Alone
It's been almost two years since I moved out of my parents' basement and settled into my own apartment in Cincinnati to begin my life as an "adult" (which, I'm realizing, is a very relative term). After 23 years of either living in a suburban house with my family or living in a college dorm with a hundred other guys, I found myself in solitude.
To be perfectly honest, these past two years have been one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I think that many people think that, because I'm rather quiet and am not very outgoing, I desire to be a withdrawn hermit with no contact with the outside world. But that's not true at all. I like people, and I like being around them, even. Living alone in my 500-square-foot apartment has been a challenge.
I imagine that some of you out there also live alone, or you have at one point or another in your life. I've been thinking recently about how living alone does not need to be a negative stage of life. It can feel that way a lot of the time--as though my life has been put on pause until "real" life begins. But I do believe that living alone can be a time to grow and thrive if you put the work in to make it that way.
So I thought I would share a few of my thoughts here. Keep in mind, these words may reflect my own personality more than universal principles. These are things I believe are useful to me in this time while I live on my own. For you, it could be different, and if so, leave a comment and add to the discussion. I'm always down for hearing different perspectives. I should also note that what I have written here doesn't mean I have actually done any of these things especially well. I write here to encourage myself as well as others.
In any case, here a few ways that I believe one can live alone well:
1. Keep a routine
When you live alone, I think it can be easy to let your normal schedule just fall to pieces. While a person with a wife and kids and minivan has a lot of limitations on their schedules, you have much more flexibility. With that situation, I found early on that my "default mode" was to slip into complete irregularity. Some nights I would stay up until 3 a.m. watching movies and then sleep till noon. Another night I might hit the hay at 11:00 and get up at 6:00. I may eat dinner at 6:00 or at 9:00. There was no routine--no consistency.
I don't think that was a healthy way for me to live, so I have been working to build more structure into my day-to-day life. I'm trying to get up at approximately the same time each day and going through a consistent morning routine, and then going to bed at the same time each night. This gives me much more of a sense of balance to my life, and helps me feel much more "with it"--physically, emotionally, relationally, and even spiritually.
Granted, you may be in a situation where total consistency is impossible because of a crazy work schedule or other responsibilities. That's the situation I was in for my first 18 months in Cincinnati. If that is the case, I still think it's good to build routine in whatever areas of your schedule you do have control over. This can help give a more sturdy foundation for the flexible areas over which you don't have much control.
2. Do what you love
Not long ago, I sat down and thought, "What are my favorite activities to do? What are the things that I could do forever and not get tired of?" I narrowed it down to four: (1) bowling, (2) playing basketball, (3) playing Nertz (a card game, for those of you who aren't familiar with it), and (4) playing ping-pong. It may seem like a rather goofy list, but these are the things I love to do.
Then I thought about what my life has looked like since I moved to Cincinnati. In that time, I haven't touched a ping-pong paddle. I've played one game of Nertz. I have gone bowling maybe five times, and I've shot baskets four or five times.
So what have I been doing with my time? Well, I watch a lot of movies. I surf the Internet. I watch reruns of TV shows. I eat a lot of fast food.
That doesn't seem like it's how it should be. Granted, I like watching movies, and I really like eating Chick-fil-A and Wendy's. But those aren't the things I love doing. While I can't really explain why, I had neglected my favorite activities in order to be merely entertained. Maybe those of us who don't like living alone do this just to pass the time until a new stage of life begins, just like you go to bed early on Christmas Eve so that Christmas morning will seem to come faster. But I don't want my three years in Cincinnati to just be a dream. I want it to be a period of life which I can enjoy, in which I can thrive.
Do you love to play the guitar? Then pull it out of its case and start strumming. Do you love to scrapbook? Get your glue and scissors out of the box in your closet. Do you love reading? Get to the library. Do you love to bake? Then get to it, and then mail your creations to me.
The other day I went to a gym at my university and spent about 90 minutes just shooting baskets. It was the first time I had shot on a real gym floor since I graduated college. And while my already meager skills had diminished to non-existence, the experience was so refreshing.
3. Find ways to get our of your apartment
When you live alone, sometimes it can feel like you've got nowhere to be, so you might as well just stay at home on the couch. But I've found it helpful to find reasons to get out into the world outside my front door. The easy thing to do is to just stay home. But the more rewarding thing to do, I think, is to go someplace else.
I work right across the Ohio River from downtown Cincinnati. Once every week or two, once I get off in the early afternoon, I walk across one of the bridges into Cincinnati. I find a place to eat lunch, and then I go to a little park and spend a couple hours reading. I watch all the business professionals bustle around to their meetings--the women in their skirts and heals, and the men in their ties and suit jackets, all with fancy leather portfolios in hand. I listen to the church bells chime at the top of every hour.
I could read in my apartment, and frequently that at first seems more appealing than taking the long walk across the bridge. But chances are I would get distracted by Netflix and then fall asleep on my couch. And that's not living well.
4. Develop a more serious prayer life
I've always been interested in the ascetic and monastic life that has been common throughout church history. I've been influenced greatly by Brother Lawrence's Practicing the Presence of God, and I'm currently reading a chapter of Thomas a Kempis' The Imitation of Christ each morning. Something that these monastics have understood is the value of solitude. To them, life alone really wasn't life alone at all, because it was a chance to commune with God.
In my time in Cincinnati, I have been working on developing a more robust prayer life. I'm nowhere near where I should be, but I hope that I am maturing. When you're in college, for example, it can be hard to find any time or space to yourself to spend in prayer. Even at a Christian college like the one I attended, you feel a little silly when someone busts into your dorm room while you're sitting with your head bowed. But when you live alone, you have all the time and space you could ask for.
One of my goals has been to pray for people I know in more specific ways. When you live alone, it's easy to feel disconnected from people. But when you're praying by name for others, and they are praying for you--is there really a way to be more connected? Connection with God through prayer, and connection with the church through mutual intercession. Living alone provides a unique opportunity for the development of such a life.
What do you think? If you live alone, or you have in the past, what are ways you've found to do so in a positive way? What are the potential hazards to living alone?
To be perfectly honest, these past two years have been one of the most difficult seasons of my life. I think that many people think that, because I'm rather quiet and am not very outgoing, I desire to be a withdrawn hermit with no contact with the outside world. But that's not true at all. I like people, and I like being around them, even. Living alone in my 500-square-foot apartment has been a challenge.
I imagine that some of you out there also live alone, or you have at one point or another in your life. I've been thinking recently about how living alone does not need to be a negative stage of life. It can feel that way a lot of the time--as though my life has been put on pause until "real" life begins. But I do believe that living alone can be a time to grow and thrive if you put the work in to make it that way.
So I thought I would share a few of my thoughts here. Keep in mind, these words may reflect my own personality more than universal principles. These are things I believe are useful to me in this time while I live on my own. For you, it could be different, and if so, leave a comment and add to the discussion. I'm always down for hearing different perspectives. I should also note that what I have written here doesn't mean I have actually done any of these things especially well. I write here to encourage myself as well as others.
In any case, here a few ways that I believe one can live alone well:
1. Keep a routine
When you live alone, I think it can be easy to let your normal schedule just fall to pieces. While a person with a wife and kids and minivan has a lot of limitations on their schedules, you have much more flexibility. With that situation, I found early on that my "default mode" was to slip into complete irregularity. Some nights I would stay up until 3 a.m. watching movies and then sleep till noon. Another night I might hit the hay at 11:00 and get up at 6:00. I may eat dinner at 6:00 or at 9:00. There was no routine--no consistency.
I don't think that was a healthy way for me to live, so I have been working to build more structure into my day-to-day life. I'm trying to get up at approximately the same time each day and going through a consistent morning routine, and then going to bed at the same time each night. This gives me much more of a sense of balance to my life, and helps me feel much more "with it"--physically, emotionally, relationally, and even spiritually.
Granted, you may be in a situation where total consistency is impossible because of a crazy work schedule or other responsibilities. That's the situation I was in for my first 18 months in Cincinnati. If that is the case, I still think it's good to build routine in whatever areas of your schedule you do have control over. This can help give a more sturdy foundation for the flexible areas over which you don't have much control.
2. Do what you love
Not long ago, I sat down and thought, "What are my favorite activities to do? What are the things that I could do forever and not get tired of?" I narrowed it down to four: (1) bowling, (2) playing basketball, (3) playing Nertz (a card game, for those of you who aren't familiar with it), and (4) playing ping-pong. It may seem like a rather goofy list, but these are the things I love to do.
Then I thought about what my life has looked like since I moved to Cincinnati. In that time, I haven't touched a ping-pong paddle. I've played one game of Nertz. I have gone bowling maybe five times, and I've shot baskets four or five times.
So what have I been doing with my time? Well, I watch a lot of movies. I surf the Internet. I watch reruns of TV shows. I eat a lot of fast food.
That doesn't seem like it's how it should be. Granted, I like watching movies, and I really like eating Chick-fil-A and Wendy's. But those aren't the things I love doing. While I can't really explain why, I had neglected my favorite activities in order to be merely entertained. Maybe those of us who don't like living alone do this just to pass the time until a new stage of life begins, just like you go to bed early on Christmas Eve so that Christmas morning will seem to come faster. But I don't want my three years in Cincinnati to just be a dream. I want it to be a period of life which I can enjoy, in which I can thrive.
Do you love to play the guitar? Then pull it out of its case and start strumming. Do you love to scrapbook? Get your glue and scissors out of the box in your closet. Do you love reading? Get to the library. Do you love to bake? Then get to it, and then mail your creations to me.
The other day I went to a gym at my university and spent about 90 minutes just shooting baskets. It was the first time I had shot on a real gym floor since I graduated college. And while my already meager skills had diminished to non-existence, the experience was so refreshing.
3. Find ways to get our of your apartment
When you live alone, sometimes it can feel like you've got nowhere to be, so you might as well just stay at home on the couch. But I've found it helpful to find reasons to get out into the world outside my front door. The easy thing to do is to just stay home. But the more rewarding thing to do, I think, is to go someplace else.
I work right across the Ohio River from downtown Cincinnati. Once every week or two, once I get off in the early afternoon, I walk across one of the bridges into Cincinnati. I find a place to eat lunch, and then I go to a little park and spend a couple hours reading. I watch all the business professionals bustle around to their meetings--the women in their skirts and heals, and the men in their ties and suit jackets, all with fancy leather portfolios in hand. I listen to the church bells chime at the top of every hour.
I could read in my apartment, and frequently that at first seems more appealing than taking the long walk across the bridge. But chances are I would get distracted by Netflix and then fall asleep on my couch. And that's not living well.
4. Develop a more serious prayer life
I've always been interested in the ascetic and monastic life that has been common throughout church history. I've been influenced greatly by Brother Lawrence's Practicing the Presence of God, and I'm currently reading a chapter of Thomas a Kempis' The Imitation of Christ each morning. Something that these monastics have understood is the value of solitude. To them, life alone really wasn't life alone at all, because it was a chance to commune with God.
In my time in Cincinnati, I have been working on developing a more robust prayer life. I'm nowhere near where I should be, but I hope that I am maturing. When you're in college, for example, it can be hard to find any time or space to yourself to spend in prayer. Even at a Christian college like the one I attended, you feel a little silly when someone busts into your dorm room while you're sitting with your head bowed. But when you live alone, you have all the time and space you could ask for.
One of my goals has been to pray for people I know in more specific ways. When you live alone, it's easy to feel disconnected from people. But when you're praying by name for others, and they are praying for you--is there really a way to be more connected? Connection with God through prayer, and connection with the church through mutual intercession. Living alone provides a unique opportunity for the development of such a life.
What do you think? If you live alone, or you have in the past, what are ways you've found to do so in a positive way? What are the potential hazards to living alone?
Monday, July 15, 2013
Labeling the Lies
No one likes to be lied to.
When someone lies to you, you get angry. And for good reason. You stop trusting that person. You are cautious of other promises that person might make to you. Like the villagers who kept hearing the shepherd boy cry "Wolf!," you become skeptical of the liar's claims.
Jesus calls Satan "a liar and the father of lies" (Jn. 8:44). That's what he does. He lies. It's in his character. He's full of empty-promises, twisted half-truths, and unfulfilled expectations.
Satan's work in Scripture is introduced by the serpent's words to Eve: "You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowling good and evil." It's a flat-out lie. He promises one thing (wisdom, pleasure, life) and delivers another (death and loneliness). And for the rest of the Scriptural narrative, lies continue to be Satan's game.
I've been thinking lately about the way we Christians often talk about sin-issues, and I wonder if the nomenclature we use hinders are resistance to Satan's ploys. We talk about being tempted, struggling, or wrestling with sin. Those may not be bad ways to speak, I suppose. Biblical, in fact. But it seems odd to me that I can use the same word for the sins in my life ("I'm being tempted to spend my offering money on a new iPad instead") as well as for the desserts I get after dinner ("Mmmm, that ice cream sundae sure is tempting!")
When I talk about being tempted, I often feel enticed. I feel desirous of the sin being waved in front of me. And that doesn't help me resist.
Maybe we would do better if we called sin what it is: A lie. When I realize I'm being lied to, I no longer feel enticed by it. I feel angry. And when I'm angry with the liar (in this case, Satan), I'm not very apt to go along with what he says.
Imagine you bought a car from a used car lot--one of the ones with a salesman in a plaid suit and giant inflatable guy flapping around out front. The salesman tells you that the car is in great shape. In fact, it's just had an entirely new engine put it. He tells you it should run without a problem for years. So you purchase the car and drive off the lot, but before you even get it home, smoke starts puffing out of the hood, and it sounds like someone is shaking a tin can full of nails. You pull over, pop the hood, and immediately see that the engine is not new at all. It's falling apart. The belts are broken, the gears are clogged, and it all looks terrible. When you go back to the salesman to complain and get your money back, he tells you, "Too bad! Looks like you got a lemon, but you're stuck with it!"
My guess is that you would be pretty angry in that situation. And the next week when the salesman called you up and said, "Have I got a deal for you! Just come on down to the lot, and we'll hook you up with a another luxury car," you wouldn't be very enticed. One lie--one bum deal--that was enough.
Satan is a lot like that used car salesman. He keeps making offers. "This time will be different!" But it never is. He always fails to deliver. And that should make us mad. When Peter told Jesus, "No Jesus! You won't be crucified!," Jesus didn't sit and ponder, "Hm...he might have a point. Maybe I don't need to go to the cross." Instead, Jesus shouts back, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man" (Mk. 8:33).
In my own mind, I have been trying to label invitations to sin as lies, and it has been helping me. Maybe it will for you too. Satan is a liar, and liars are jerks. I try not to associate with them. And when I identify Satan's words as lies, those temptations just don't seem so, well, tempting.
When someone lies to you, you get angry. And for good reason. You stop trusting that person. You are cautious of other promises that person might make to you. Like the villagers who kept hearing the shepherd boy cry "Wolf!," you become skeptical of the liar's claims.
Jesus calls Satan "a liar and the father of lies" (Jn. 8:44). That's what he does. He lies. It's in his character. He's full of empty-promises, twisted half-truths, and unfulfilled expectations.
Satan's work in Scripture is introduced by the serpent's words to Eve: "You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowling good and evil." It's a flat-out lie. He promises one thing (wisdom, pleasure, life) and delivers another (death and loneliness). And for the rest of the Scriptural narrative, lies continue to be Satan's game.
"David, it's okay to take a census of the people. You'll feel much safer if you do, and it will show everyone how great of a kingdom you've built." (1 Chron. 21:1)
"You don't need to go to a cross, Jesus. There are easier ways to get a kingdom. Bow down to me, and it'll all be yours." (Matt. 4:8-9).
"You've got to hand Jesus over, Judas. It's what's best for the nation. You'll go down in history as a hero." (Lk. 22:3)The lies continue today--this demonic bait-and-switch. Wealth promises security and the absence of worry, but it brings added stress. Pornography promises emotional fulfillment but delivers isolation and loneliness. War promises peace at last but results in just more hatred. Drunkenness promises an escape from life's problems but actually compounds those same problems.
I've been thinking lately about the way we Christians often talk about sin-issues, and I wonder if the nomenclature we use hinders are resistance to Satan's ploys. We talk about being tempted, struggling, or wrestling with sin. Those may not be bad ways to speak, I suppose. Biblical, in fact. But it seems odd to me that I can use the same word for the sins in my life ("I'm being tempted to spend my offering money on a new iPad instead") as well as for the desserts I get after dinner ("Mmmm, that ice cream sundae sure is tempting!")
When I talk about being tempted, I often feel enticed. I feel desirous of the sin being waved in front of me. And that doesn't help me resist.
Maybe we would do better if we called sin what it is: A lie. When I realize I'm being lied to, I no longer feel enticed by it. I feel angry. And when I'm angry with the liar (in this case, Satan), I'm not very apt to go along with what he says.
Imagine you bought a car from a used car lot--one of the ones with a salesman in a plaid suit and giant inflatable guy flapping around out front. The salesman tells you that the car is in great shape. In fact, it's just had an entirely new engine put it. He tells you it should run without a problem for years. So you purchase the car and drive off the lot, but before you even get it home, smoke starts puffing out of the hood, and it sounds like someone is shaking a tin can full of nails. You pull over, pop the hood, and immediately see that the engine is not new at all. It's falling apart. The belts are broken, the gears are clogged, and it all looks terrible. When you go back to the salesman to complain and get your money back, he tells you, "Too bad! Looks like you got a lemon, but you're stuck with it!"
My guess is that you would be pretty angry in that situation. And the next week when the salesman called you up and said, "Have I got a deal for you! Just come on down to the lot, and we'll hook you up with a another luxury car," you wouldn't be very enticed. One lie--one bum deal--that was enough.
Satan is a lot like that used car salesman. He keeps making offers. "This time will be different!" But it never is. He always fails to deliver. And that should make us mad. When Peter told Jesus, "No Jesus! You won't be crucified!," Jesus didn't sit and ponder, "Hm...he might have a point. Maybe I don't need to go to the cross." Instead, Jesus shouts back, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man" (Mk. 8:33).
In my own mind, I have been trying to label invitations to sin as lies, and it has been helping me. Maybe it will for you too. Satan is a liar, and liars are jerks. I try not to associate with them. And when I identify Satan's words as lies, those temptations just don't seem so, well, tempting.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Scripture Filling Out Scripture
Most printed Bibles come with a lot of footnotes.
If you look down at the bottom of the page, you'll find notes giving alternate translations of certain words or phrases. You'll find notes that mention that some passages aren't found in certain ancient manuscripts. And, perhaps most commonly, you'll find notes that provide a reference to another verse, namely when the present passage is quoting or referencing another.
Do you ever actually go look up the reference in those footnotes? I normally don't, to be honest. But recently I read the book Justification by N.T. Wright (which is an interesting book that deserves its own post, which I probably won't write). In the book, Wright (influenced by the work of Richard B. Hayes) points out that when the apostle Paul quotes the Old Testament in his letters (which is does often), he would have had the entire context of the original passage. In seeing how these quotations fit into the New Testament, then, it is helpful for the interpreter to go back to the Old Testament and see how the context there colors the way the quotation is being used.
I think this is a good point. After all, Paul wouldn't have conceived of Scripture as a collection of disjointed fragments (the way we often do because of modern versification). So when, for example, he throws in the quotation "Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness" in Romans 4, he may have had the entirety of Genesis 15 in the back of his mind, which ought to influence the way Romans 4 is understood even today.
I began wondering if this would be true for the other writers of the New Testament, and I think it is. Recently I have been reading the gospel of Matthew in the mornings. If you have read Matthew much at all, you know that it is full of Old Testament quotations and allusions. But how is Matthew using the Old Testament? Is he using it simply to say, "Look, here's an Old Testament prophecy about Jesus, and here's how he fulfills it, so you know he's really the Messiah!" Or do the contexts of the passages Matthew references shed light on a more well-rounded understanding of Jesus and his ministry?
A few examples from just the first few chapters of the gospel show that the latter is the case, I think. First, in Matthew 2:16-18, Matthew tells of Herod ordering that all the male children in Bethlehem under two years of age be killed after he hears of the supposed birth of a new king. Matthew then quotes Jeremiah: "A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more."
At first glance, it may seem that this quotation simply shows that it was prophesied that something bad would happen to the children of Israel. But if you go back to Jeremiah 31, you get a fuller picture. The passage speaks of the restoration of Israel. "Again I will build you, and you shall be built, O virgin Israel!" (Jer. 31:5). "For the Lord has ransomed Jacob and has redeemed him from hands too strong for him" (Jer. 31:11). It's a passage about celebrating the realization of God's plan for Israel. And right in the middle of this, you find the verse Matthew references, about Rachel weeping for her children. Then, right after this, you find this:
For a second example, you could look at Matthew 4:12-17. Here Jesus goes to Galilee and begins to preach "int eh territory of Zebulun and Naphtali." Matthew quotes a couple verses from Isaiah 9: "The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles--the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling int he region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned."
Is this just a simple prophecy that the Messiah would preach in Galilee? Perhaps, but it could be something bigger than that. Isaiah 9 is very much a kingdom-centered passage. While Matthew only quotes the first two verses, just a little farther down the page you find this:
The kingdom theme present in Isaiah 9 may also explain why Matthew structures the account of Jesus' temptations the way he does in 4:1-11. Both Matthew and Luke include this account, though they present the three temptations in a different order. In Luke, the order is: (1) stone to bread, (2) worshipping Satan and gaining the kingdoms of the world, and (3) throwing himself off the temple. For Matthew, however, the order is: (1) stone to bread, (2) throwing himself off the temple, and (3) worshipping Satan and gaining the kingdoms of the world.
Why the difference? Maybe Matthew purposely put Satan's offer of the kingdoms of the world last, as this leads directly into 4:12-17. Jesus refuses Satan's methods for kingship, but he is stilling bringing the kingdom. (He is, after all, the Prince of Peace, with the government on his shoulders, who sits on David's throne, right Isaiah?) He preaches the nearness of the true kingdom, calls followers to himself as he begins to constitute the people of that kingdom, and heals the sick as a sign of the kingdom's coming.
It seems, then, that Matthew's use of Isaiah 9:1-2 is about more than the fact the Messiah would preach in Galilee. It's a rather profound statement that the king had come. His kingdom isn't by Satan's methods, but rather God's. And again, the context of the Old Testament fills all of this out.
If you're anything like me, it's easy to skip over those pesky footnotes. But I'm learning to go back and look them up, because I believe that will help me get into the mind of the New Testament author just a little bit more. I would encourage you to try it out as well!
If you look down at the bottom of the page, you'll find notes giving alternate translations of certain words or phrases. You'll find notes that mention that some passages aren't found in certain ancient manuscripts. And, perhaps most commonly, you'll find notes that provide a reference to another verse, namely when the present passage is quoting or referencing another.
Do you ever actually go look up the reference in those footnotes? I normally don't, to be honest. But recently I read the book Justification by N.T. Wright (which is an interesting book that deserves its own post, which I probably won't write). In the book, Wright (influenced by the work of Richard B. Hayes) points out that when the apostle Paul quotes the Old Testament in his letters (which is does often), he would have had the entire context of the original passage. In seeing how these quotations fit into the New Testament, then, it is helpful for the interpreter to go back to the Old Testament and see how the context there colors the way the quotation is being used.
I think this is a good point. After all, Paul wouldn't have conceived of Scripture as a collection of disjointed fragments (the way we often do because of modern versification). So when, for example, he throws in the quotation "Abraham believed God, and it was credited to him as righteousness" in Romans 4, he may have had the entirety of Genesis 15 in the back of his mind, which ought to influence the way Romans 4 is understood even today.
I began wondering if this would be true for the other writers of the New Testament, and I think it is. Recently I have been reading the gospel of Matthew in the mornings. If you have read Matthew much at all, you know that it is full of Old Testament quotations and allusions. But how is Matthew using the Old Testament? Is he using it simply to say, "Look, here's an Old Testament prophecy about Jesus, and here's how he fulfills it, so you know he's really the Messiah!" Or do the contexts of the passages Matthew references shed light on a more well-rounded understanding of Jesus and his ministry?
A few examples from just the first few chapters of the gospel show that the latter is the case, I think. First, in Matthew 2:16-18, Matthew tells of Herod ordering that all the male children in Bethlehem under two years of age be killed after he hears of the supposed birth of a new king. Matthew then quotes Jeremiah: "A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more."
At first glance, it may seem that this quotation simply shows that it was prophesied that something bad would happen to the children of Israel. But if you go back to Jeremiah 31, you get a fuller picture. The passage speaks of the restoration of Israel. "Again I will build you, and you shall be built, O virgin Israel!" (Jer. 31:5). "For the Lord has ransomed Jacob and has redeemed him from hands too strong for him" (Jer. 31:11). It's a passage about celebrating the realization of God's plan for Israel. And right in the middle of this, you find the verse Matthew references, about Rachel weeping for her children. Then, right after this, you find this:
Thus says the Lord: "Keep your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears, for there is a reward for your work, declares the Lord, and they shall come back from the land of the enemy. There is hope for your future, declares the Lord, and your children shall come back to their own country."So what's going on here? Yes, Israel is suffering. But that suffering, in the end, leads to deliverance and rejoicing. The weeping will end. And maybe that's why Matthew quotes this passage. Yes, when Herod slaughtered the children of Bethlehem, the people suffered. And yet, deliverance was at hand, namely in that child that had been smuggled to Egypt. In fact, deliverance would perhaps come through suffering. Matthew 2, then, more than a simple "prophecy-and-fulfillment." It's a theological statement about the nature of this child that had been born. Deliverance was coming in Jesus.
For a second example, you could look at Matthew 4:12-17. Here Jesus goes to Galilee and begins to preach "int eh territory of Zebulun and Naphtali." Matthew quotes a couple verses from Isaiah 9: "The land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, the way of the sea, beyond the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles--the people dwelling in darkness have seen a great light, and for those dwelling int he region and shadow of death, on them a light has dawned."
Is this just a simple prophecy that the Messiah would preach in Galilee? Perhaps, but it could be something bigger than that. Isaiah 9 is very much a kingdom-centered passage. While Matthew only quotes the first two verses, just a little farther down the page you find this:
For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. (Isa. 9:6-7)Isaiah 9 (from which Matthew takes the words about Zebulun and Naphtali) is about God's reign being exercised through this child to be born. It's a kingdom passage. And, if you look at Matthew 4, you see that it too is a kingdom passage. What is it that Jesus is preaching in Galilee? "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand" (Matt. 4:17). He then begins to call disciples to follow him. (Gathering a people to himself? Sounds like a very kingly thing to do). He also travels throughout Galilee, "teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people." Finally, Jesus gets up on a mountain and delivers what you might call a "Kingdom Manifesto" (Matt. 5-7).
The kingdom theme present in Isaiah 9 may also explain why Matthew structures the account of Jesus' temptations the way he does in 4:1-11. Both Matthew and Luke include this account, though they present the three temptations in a different order. In Luke, the order is: (1) stone to bread, (2) worshipping Satan and gaining the kingdoms of the world, and (3) throwing himself off the temple. For Matthew, however, the order is: (1) stone to bread, (2) throwing himself off the temple, and (3) worshipping Satan and gaining the kingdoms of the world.
Why the difference? Maybe Matthew purposely put Satan's offer of the kingdoms of the world last, as this leads directly into 4:12-17. Jesus refuses Satan's methods for kingship, but he is stilling bringing the kingdom. (He is, after all, the Prince of Peace, with the government on his shoulders, who sits on David's throne, right Isaiah?) He preaches the nearness of the true kingdom, calls followers to himself as he begins to constitute the people of that kingdom, and heals the sick as a sign of the kingdom's coming.
It seems, then, that Matthew's use of Isaiah 9:1-2 is about more than the fact the Messiah would preach in Galilee. It's a rather profound statement that the king had come. His kingdom isn't by Satan's methods, but rather God's. And again, the context of the Old Testament fills all of this out.
If you're anything like me, it's easy to skip over those pesky footnotes. But I'm learning to go back and look them up, because I believe that will help me get into the mind of the New Testament author just a little bit more. I would encourage you to try it out as well!
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Salt and Light
I wonder if my blog feels like Lucille Bluth today. Why, you ask?
Because yesterday, July 2nd, was my blog's 5th Blogiversary! And unlike the previous four such occasions, I failed to write a new post to celebrate. I could say that I was distracted by Homer Bailey throwing his second no-hitter for the Reds in less than a year, but that didn't happen until after 10 p.m., so that excuse might not hold up under scrutiny.
In any case, Happy Blogiversary.
Now with all that self-glorification out of the way...
This morning I read Matthew 5:13-16, which is a passage that I have read a hundred times before, but that especially struck me today. Here's what it says:
You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people's feet.
You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all int he house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.The word "relevant" has become somewhat of a catchword among modern-day Christians. Churches want to be "relevant." Individual believers want to be "relevant." Blogs want to be "relevant."
Relevance is not a bad goal, of course. It may me necessary, in fact, if the church is to fulfill its mission to the world. But as I hear conversations on the topic, I wonder if many have an incomplete picture of what such relevance actually means. It seems that to many, relevance merely means swallowing down whatever pop-cultural phenomena might be in vogue at the time, and then patting themselves on the back for being so culturally sophisticated.
"Yeah, I watch HBO and listen to Imagine Dragons and only shop at the all-natural food store. I'm so relevant."
Fine.
What I believe can happen, though, is that this incomplete understanding of relevance only results in a Christian who looks just like anyone else, but who also happens to believe in Jesus. I want to be relevant, so I'll listen to the same music as everyone else, dress the same as everyone else, speak the same as everyone else, and essentially blend in with everyone else. There is really nothing to distinguish a follower of Christ from any other Joe on the street.
The intentions are good. After all, we are to be the salt of the earth. We are the light of the world. This signifies some level of cultural engagement. As salt and light, we are to be present in the world--even the unbelieving world--the surrounds us.
But from Jesus' words in Matthew 5, his followers are also to be distinct. They should stand out. They are described as salt, and salt is a distinct flavor. Case in point: a while back there were some snacks out at school for everyone to enjoy, and I stuffed a handful of potato chips in my mouth, believing they were original flavored. I soon realized they were actually salt n' vinegar, and I thought I may keel over and die on the spot.
Jesus' followers are also described as light, and light is certainly distinct. It doesn't blend in with the darkness at all. It shines out. When I was in high school, I was driving from Arizona to Kansas with my sister. We were going through New Mexico after the sun had gone down, and as I looked out the passenger-side window, I could see none of the desert in the darkness. But then we came over a rise in the road, and there, miles ahead of us, was the city of Albuquerque--it's thousands of lights shooting into the blackness with intensity.
To be salt and light, then, certainly cannot mean to be "relevant" in the sense described above. Such an idea is a shallow understanding of what relevance truly is.
On the other hand, many Christians, in an effort to truly be salt and light, assume that Jesus' words mean to have nothing to do with "unchristian culture." Such a person might only listen to Christian radio stations, watch Christian movies, where Christian t-shirts, and use Christian language like "Blessed" and "Lift up." At the end of the day, they go to bed satisfied with having been such a countercultural force in the world.
I have nothing against Christian music or t-shirts. But if this is the extent of our "saltiness," I think we're still missing the point. You can look a lot different from unbelievers on the outside but still be a lot like them on the inside. And I don't know that the number of Max Lucado books on our shelves or the number of fish on our back bumpers--as good as these things are--are going to be what changes the world.
So what does it mean to be salt and light? Maybe it means what Jesus had just been talking about in his sermon in Matthew 5. Maybe it means being merciful, peace-making, pure, and meek. Maybe it even means suffering for the sake of belonging to Christ.
And maybe living like that is the most relevant thing we can do.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
The Fruit of Obedience
For the past couple weeks, I have been preaching a sermon series from the book of Proverbs. Each week we have been looking at a theme that runs throughout the book and asking, "What does it look like to live wisely in this area of my life?" This morning the topic was family, and in my preparation for the message I realized that Proverbs has a lot to say about family.
One passage that I took a look at this week is Proverbs 5:15-18, where the reader is told to "rejoice in the wife of your youth." In his commentary on the passage, Tremper Longman III pointed out that this passage comes in a chapter that is full of warnings against the "forbidden woman." In the context surrounding the passage, you find repeated admonitions to stay away from the adulteress. But verses 15-18 are the flip side of that coin. Longman explained that the best way to avoid adultery and immorality is to foster a strong and positive relationship with your own spouse.
I found Longman's statement both insightful and true. A married person could walk the streets focused on what he or she shouldn't be doing. Stay away from the adulteress! Or, he could focus on having a solid relationship with his spouse. More than anything else, that may be the most effective defense against temptation.
I think that this principle can be expanded beyond the physical marriage relationship. It also applies to one's relationship with God. I often find myself so focused on resisting sin and fighting temptation. Be sure to avoid this bad thing, and that bad thing, and even that bad thing way over there. I have a list of rules in my head, and I worry about being sure to follow every rule on that list.
To be sure, obedience is important. God gives his people certain commands, and our response ought to be to obey them. But perhaps a more important thing than avoiding all of the sins is to develop a stronger relationship with God. Perhaps that, more than anything else, will produce obedience in our lives. Perhaps that's the center of a holy life.
Maybe that's why the New Testament talks so much about "fruit."
My hope is that, in the pursuit of a holy life, I don't leave God behind. That can happen, I think. We become so concerned with doing the right things and avoiding the wrong things, that we forget to foster a relationship with God. But that never works. Only God is holy, and we are holy insofar as we allow ourselves to be filled and led by his Spirit. As Paul told the Galatians, "Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh" (Gal. 5:16).
It sounds so much simpler than trying to follow a checklist. But it can be very difficult, because we like checklists. Being Spirit-filled...it seems so mystical. So mysterious. So uncontrollable.
And yet, so fruitful.
One passage that I took a look at this week is Proverbs 5:15-18, where the reader is told to "rejoice in the wife of your youth." In his commentary on the passage, Tremper Longman III pointed out that this passage comes in a chapter that is full of warnings against the "forbidden woman." In the context surrounding the passage, you find repeated admonitions to stay away from the adulteress. But verses 15-18 are the flip side of that coin. Longman explained that the best way to avoid adultery and immorality is to foster a strong and positive relationship with your own spouse.
I found Longman's statement both insightful and true. A married person could walk the streets focused on what he or she shouldn't be doing. Stay away from the adulteress! Or, he could focus on having a solid relationship with his spouse. More than anything else, that may be the most effective defense against temptation.
I think that this principle can be expanded beyond the physical marriage relationship. It also applies to one's relationship with God. I often find myself so focused on resisting sin and fighting temptation. Be sure to avoid this bad thing, and that bad thing, and even that bad thing way over there. I have a list of rules in my head, and I worry about being sure to follow every rule on that list.
To be sure, obedience is important. God gives his people certain commands, and our response ought to be to obey them. But perhaps a more important thing than avoiding all of the sins is to develop a stronger relationship with God. Perhaps that, more than anything else, will produce obedience in our lives. Perhaps that's the center of a holy life.
Maybe that's why the New Testament talks so much about "fruit."
Every healthy tree bears good fruit, but the diseased tree bears bad fruit. (Matt. 7:17)
But the fruit of the Spirit is.... (Gal. 5:22)
For the fruit of light is found in all that is good and right and true. (Eph. 5:9)
Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit. (Jn. 15:5)The person who is connected to Christ, who is filled with the Spirit, who is in relationship with God--this person bears the fruit of obedience. Holiness, then, isn't so much about being sure to check off every command on a list in your pocket. It's about abiding in Christ, because obedience then comes as a natural byproduct, just as an apple is a natural byproduct of a branch connected to an apple tree.
My hope is that, in the pursuit of a holy life, I don't leave God behind. That can happen, I think. We become so concerned with doing the right things and avoiding the wrong things, that we forget to foster a relationship with God. But that never works. Only God is holy, and we are holy insofar as we allow ourselves to be filled and led by his Spirit. As Paul told the Galatians, "Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh" (Gal. 5:16).
It sounds so much simpler than trying to follow a checklist. But it can be very difficult, because we like checklists. Being Spirit-filled...it seems so mystical. So mysterious. So uncontrollable.
And yet, so fruitful.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Inconvenient Love
Earlier this summer, I read the late Brennan Manning's book Patched Together. The book is a modern-day parable about Willie Juan, who grows up as somewhat of an outcast in a small town in Mexico. Willie Juan doesn't really fit in with the other kids in his village. His ethnic blend causes him to look different from the others, and he lives with his grandmother rather than with his father and mother. Because of Willie Juan's oddities, the other children constantly pick on him and pull embarrassing pranks on him. The only one of his peers who defends him or shows any kindness toward him is a little girl named Ana.
As the years go by, Willie Juan becomes increasingly skilled in wood-carving, and his craftsmanship is recognized by a wealthy American patron. Willie Juan leaves his poverty-stricken village in Mexico and moves to Santa Fe, New Mexico. He lives in a large mansion and enjoys the luxuries associated with his new found success. The struggles and hurts he experienced as a child have been left behind him, and he begins a life of acceptance, respect, and wealth.
More time goes by. Then one day Willie Juan happens upon someone he did not expect to see--Ana. The girl who had once been his only friend had become a young woman and moved to Santa Fe, where she worked among the poor. She lives in a cardboard shack only eight feet long, where she cares for several orphaned children.
Willie Juan quickly becomes enamored with Ana. He goes to visit her every day, and they take long walks along the river before he walks her back to her shack. In his own mind, Willie Juan vows to one day take Ana away from the poverty in which she lives. Finally, one day Willie Juan takes Ana's hand, professes his love for her, and asks her to marry him. Ana responds to Willie Juan's proposal by admitting that she also loves him. But she also loves the poor people among whom she works and lives, and she says that she would be happy to marry Willie Juan if he would come live and work with her there.
Willie Juan is confused by Ana's answer. It's not what he had been anticipating. He asks, "What? I don't understand. You mean to marry you I must live like you in a little cardboard shack with no water and no bathtub? I have worked so hard to get away from all that." Willie Juan had worked his whole life to attain what he had, but marrying Ana would mean giving all of it up, and he is unwilling to do that. So he goes home and tells himself that if Ana would not come to be with him, he would not go see her again.
As a reader, I wanted to have a little chat with Willie Juan at this point. You know that Ana is the person Willie Juan needs to be with. You are rooting for these two childhood friends to come together. But Willie Juan walks away because he is unwilling to sacrifice the life he had constructed for himself. In his mind, Ana just isn't worth it.
It's a good lesson on love, I think. When I reached this point in the story, I shut my book for a moment and thought about where Willie Juan had gone wrong, and the conclusion I came to is this:
Love is a willingness to bend.
Willie Juan thinks he loves Ana. But when faced with a choice between Ana and the comfort and wealth he has become used to, he chooses the comfort. He wants to marry Ana, but only if its on his terms.
Many people (including me) try to love others the same way that Willie Juan does. We say we love others, but only insofar as that love doesn't rattle our lives too much. But genuine love always costs something. It's always inconvenient. It always demands something of the lover.
A while back a friend of mine was telling me about his relationship with his wife and how he felt when they started dating. He said that if there had been something keeping him from her, he would have done anything to get back to her. He would have quit his job, dropped out of school, moved across the country...whatever it took. He has a furious, all-in type of love. And that may be the truest type of love.
The truth is that if you are only looking for friendships that won't make many demands on your time or attention, then your life will only consist of shallow, superficial friendships. And if, like Willie Juan, you want a husband or wife who will "fit in" with the life you've already planned for yourself, you're setting yourself up for either loneliness or frustration. And if you want a God who you can just "add on" to your life like an accessory, you won't find the real God.
I can be a bit of a planner. For most of my life, I've had a pretty good idea of what I would be doing in the future, and perhaps this has led to me thinking that's what I need to be doing in the future. For example, I decided where I would go for college when I was just beginning my high school career. I planned out what I would do with my summers months in advance. Then I chose to go to graduate school, thus locking down another three years. I've always liked to feel like I have some level of control over my life. But this can be a problem for me. I recognize that. I wonder how my social relationships have suffered because I have been unwilling to sacrifice my own plans, and I wonder how my connection with God can also suffer for the same reasons. Have I not been open to others because of how it might affect my plans? Have I kept God at arm's length for fear he would wash away the sandcastle I've worked so hard to build?
I don't want to be someone who is controlled by preset plans or self-imposed duty. I want to be a person who is motivated by love--someone who is willing to sacrifice his own interests for the sake of others and someone who is open to others and to God, regardless of how inconvenient it may be. Someone who is willing to bend.
As the years go by, Willie Juan becomes increasingly skilled in wood-carving, and his craftsmanship is recognized by a wealthy American patron. Willie Juan leaves his poverty-stricken village in Mexico and moves to Santa Fe, New Mexico. He lives in a large mansion and enjoys the luxuries associated with his new found success. The struggles and hurts he experienced as a child have been left behind him, and he begins a life of acceptance, respect, and wealth.
More time goes by. Then one day Willie Juan happens upon someone he did not expect to see--Ana. The girl who had once been his only friend had become a young woman and moved to Santa Fe, where she worked among the poor. She lives in a cardboard shack only eight feet long, where she cares for several orphaned children.
Willie Juan quickly becomes enamored with Ana. He goes to visit her every day, and they take long walks along the river before he walks her back to her shack. In his own mind, Willie Juan vows to one day take Ana away from the poverty in which she lives. Finally, one day Willie Juan takes Ana's hand, professes his love for her, and asks her to marry him. Ana responds to Willie Juan's proposal by admitting that she also loves him. But she also loves the poor people among whom she works and lives, and she says that she would be happy to marry Willie Juan if he would come live and work with her there.
Willie Juan is confused by Ana's answer. It's not what he had been anticipating. He asks, "What? I don't understand. You mean to marry you I must live like you in a little cardboard shack with no water and no bathtub? I have worked so hard to get away from all that." Willie Juan had worked his whole life to attain what he had, but marrying Ana would mean giving all of it up, and he is unwilling to do that. So he goes home and tells himself that if Ana would not come to be with him, he would not go see her again.
As a reader, I wanted to have a little chat with Willie Juan at this point. You know that Ana is the person Willie Juan needs to be with. You are rooting for these two childhood friends to come together. But Willie Juan walks away because he is unwilling to sacrifice the life he had constructed for himself. In his mind, Ana just isn't worth it.
It's a good lesson on love, I think. When I reached this point in the story, I shut my book for a moment and thought about where Willie Juan had gone wrong, and the conclusion I came to is this:
Love is a willingness to bend.
Willie Juan thinks he loves Ana. But when faced with a choice between Ana and the comfort and wealth he has become used to, he chooses the comfort. He wants to marry Ana, but only if its on his terms.
Many people (including me) try to love others the same way that Willie Juan does. We say we love others, but only insofar as that love doesn't rattle our lives too much. But genuine love always costs something. It's always inconvenient. It always demands something of the lover.
A while back a friend of mine was telling me about his relationship with his wife and how he felt when they started dating. He said that if there had been something keeping him from her, he would have done anything to get back to her. He would have quit his job, dropped out of school, moved across the country...whatever it took. He has a furious, all-in type of love. And that may be the truest type of love.
The truth is that if you are only looking for friendships that won't make many demands on your time or attention, then your life will only consist of shallow, superficial friendships. And if, like Willie Juan, you want a husband or wife who will "fit in" with the life you've already planned for yourself, you're setting yourself up for either loneliness or frustration. And if you want a God who you can just "add on" to your life like an accessory, you won't find the real God.
I can be a bit of a planner. For most of my life, I've had a pretty good idea of what I would be doing in the future, and perhaps this has led to me thinking that's what I need to be doing in the future. For example, I decided where I would go for college when I was just beginning my high school career. I planned out what I would do with my summers months in advance. Then I chose to go to graduate school, thus locking down another three years. I've always liked to feel like I have some level of control over my life. But this can be a problem for me. I recognize that. I wonder how my social relationships have suffered because I have been unwilling to sacrifice my own plans, and I wonder how my connection with God can also suffer for the same reasons. Have I not been open to others because of how it might affect my plans? Have I kept God at arm's length for fear he would wash away the sandcastle I've worked so hard to build?
I don't want to be someone who is controlled by preset plans or self-imposed duty. I want to be a person who is motivated by love--someone who is willing to sacrifice his own interests for the sake of others and someone who is open to others and to God, regardless of how inconvenient it may be. Someone who is willing to bend.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
The Kingdom: Membership and Inclusion
Last week I wrote a post in which I argued that the most significant characteristic of a citizen in God's kingdom is simply a realization that no one deserves to be in that kingdom, but that citizenship is dependent entirely on the mercy and grace of God. The kingdom is given to the poor in spirit and to the children who recognize their helplessness. It is withheld from the rich who bank on their self-sufficiency, as well as from the "righteous" who believe their efforts grant them with a visa into God's kingdom.
When the only entrance requirement is recognition of one's own insufficiency, the type of people who make up a kingdom may look different from what you would expect. Think of it like a football team. Normally, the requirements for being on a football team are athleticism, skill, knowledge, strength, and speed. But what if there were a team for which the requirement was only that players acknowledge their own athletic inability? What if making the team meant confessing that you weren't all that fast or strong, and that you don't know how to throw or catch a ball? I suppose that team would look a lot less like the New England Patriots and a lot more like the Bulldogs, my 4th grade team that didn't win a single game all season long.
If citizenship in God's kingdom depended on the candidate's own abilities or history, then you would expect the kingdom to be made up of a certain type of person. It would be filled with rich people. Morally upstanding people. Influential people. Powerful people. And, as far as the hearers of Jesus' teaching were concerned, Jewish people. (And kosher, bacon-abstaining Jews at that).
However, in light of Jesus' unexpected qualifications for leadership, the people of his kingdom look much different that you might expect. In Matthew 21, Jesus is challenged by the "chief priests and elders of the people" (people who, I assume, would have considered themselves first in line for God's kingdom). Jesus tells them a story about a father with two sons. One of the sons vows obedience to the father but then ignores his instructions. The other son first blows off the father's instructions but then ends up obeying. At the end of the story, Jesus points out that it's the son who actually did what his father asked who did the father's will, and then he says something very surprising: "Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you."
The kingdom isn't full of Pharisees, priests, and kings. It's filled with swindlers, prostitutes, Gentiles, and sinners. Why? Because they understood they didn't deserve to be in God's kingdom. They knew that they needed Jesus. They poured perfume on the Messiah's feet instead of criticizing his every move. They invited Jesus to dinner instead of complaining about his unwashed hands. They surrendered to him instead of crucifying him. And so, "people will come from east and west, and from north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God" (Lk. 13:29).
One day, God's kingdom will come to its full realization. And when that day happens, I imagine I will run into some people that I didn't expect to be there. I assume also that many people will run into me and be surprised that I'm there too. But that's the beauty of the kingdom. It includes people you wouldn't expect, because it runs by God's rules and not our own. I'm glad that the kingdom isn't for the powerful or self-righteous, because I'm not powerful, and I'm rarely right.
We are what the band Switchfoot calls "a church of the dropouts, the losers, the sinners, the failures, and the fools." It's an unexpected team. Not the type of citizenship most kings would choose.
Of course, not many kings possess the grace, mercy, and love that ours does.
When the only entrance requirement is recognition of one's own insufficiency, the type of people who make up a kingdom may look different from what you would expect. Think of it like a football team. Normally, the requirements for being on a football team are athleticism, skill, knowledge, strength, and speed. But what if there were a team for which the requirement was only that players acknowledge their own athletic inability? What if making the team meant confessing that you weren't all that fast or strong, and that you don't know how to throw or catch a ball? I suppose that team would look a lot less like the New England Patriots and a lot more like the Bulldogs, my 4th grade team that didn't win a single game all season long.
If citizenship in God's kingdom depended on the candidate's own abilities or history, then you would expect the kingdom to be made up of a certain type of person. It would be filled with rich people. Morally upstanding people. Influential people. Powerful people. And, as far as the hearers of Jesus' teaching were concerned, Jewish people. (And kosher, bacon-abstaining Jews at that).
However, in light of Jesus' unexpected qualifications for leadership, the people of his kingdom look much different that you might expect. In Matthew 21, Jesus is challenged by the "chief priests and elders of the people" (people who, I assume, would have considered themselves first in line for God's kingdom). Jesus tells them a story about a father with two sons. One of the sons vows obedience to the father but then ignores his instructions. The other son first blows off the father's instructions but then ends up obeying. At the end of the story, Jesus points out that it's the son who actually did what his father asked who did the father's will, and then he says something very surprising: "Truly, I say to you, the tax collectors and the prostitutes go into the kingdom of God before you."
The kingdom isn't full of Pharisees, priests, and kings. It's filled with swindlers, prostitutes, Gentiles, and sinners. Why? Because they understood they didn't deserve to be in God's kingdom. They knew that they needed Jesus. They poured perfume on the Messiah's feet instead of criticizing his every move. They invited Jesus to dinner instead of complaining about his unwashed hands. They surrendered to him instead of crucifying him. And so, "people will come from east and west, and from north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God" (Lk. 13:29).
One day, God's kingdom will come to its full realization. And when that day happens, I imagine I will run into some people that I didn't expect to be there. I assume also that many people will run into me and be surprised that I'm there too. But that's the beauty of the kingdom. It includes people you wouldn't expect, because it runs by God's rules and not our own. I'm glad that the kingdom isn't for the powerful or self-righteous, because I'm not powerful, and I'm rarely right.
We are what the band Switchfoot calls "a church of the dropouts, the losers, the sinners, the failures, and the fools." It's an unexpected team. Not the type of citizenship most kings would choose.
Of course, not many kings possess the grace, mercy, and love that ours does.
Friday, June 7, 2013
The Kingdom: Membership and Dependence
What qualifies a person for membership in God's kingdom?
If I were writing the bylaws of the kingdom of God, I could come up some pretty good entrance requirements. Maybe a person would have to submit a lengthy application with letters of recommendation and a personal interview. Maybe they would have to perform good deed, like helping the poor or bringing peace of the Mid-East. Maybe they would have to successfully play a game of "Name That Tune," using hymns and Michael W. Smith songs. Maybe they would have to run an obstacle course like on that show Wipeout or win a hot dog eating contest.
I can think of a lot of qualities that ought to precede entrance into the kingdom: Personal righteousness. A solid family history. Lots of money. Talent. Intelligence.
And yet, when you read the gospel, you find that the most important qualification for membership in God's kingdom is the realization that none of these things matter. Those who are welcomes into the kingdom are those who recognize that they have nothing to offer but rather are completely dependent on the grace of God.
This doesn't happen in any other sphere of life. When you're applying to a college, you don't want to tell the dean, "I know my grades are terrible, and I certainly don't deserve to attend this university, but I'm hoping you'll let me in anyway." At a job interview, you shouldn't say, "I'm completely unqualified for this job, sure. But maybe you can give me the job out of your mercy and kindness?" And an immigrant who applies for U.S. citizenship shouldn't come to their test saying, "I don't know what that banner is with the stars and stripes on it, and I've never even heard of George Washington."
Everywhere else, citizenship and membership depends on what you do to earn it. But for God's kingdom, membership depends on understanding that nothing you do can earn it.
Jesus begins his Kingdom Manifesto by saying, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are those who hunger for righteousness. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are the persecuted" (Matt. 5:3-10).
Nowhere in that list does one find "Blessed are the rich. Blessed are the powerful. Blessed are the talented. Blessed are the self-righteous. Blessed are the trophy-winners. Blessed are those in influential positions. Blessed are the ones who have achieved much. Blessed are the stylish. Blessed are the popular." In fact, more often than not, these qualities are what prevent people from entering God's kingdom.
Jesus once said that the kingdom of God belongs to those who receive it like a little child (Lk. 18:15-17). Perhaps the most noticeable characteristic of a child is that a child is completely dependent on others. A child can't feed himself; he needs to be fed. A child can shelter himself; he needs to be housed. A child can't get himself places; he needs to be driven. A child needs others in order to survive, and most kids who tried to run away when they were five came to this realization by the time they got to the other side of the street.
Shortly after Jesus welcomes the children, a rich and powerful up-and-comer asks him, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" (Lk. 18:18ff.) After some back-and-forth between the man and Jesus, it boils down to the command, "Sell all that you have and distribute tot he poor, and yo will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me." At this, the man turns around and walks home, unwilling to give up his possessions for the sake of following Jesus. As the man walks away with his head down, Jesus says to his disciples, "How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God."
I think it's no accident that the gospels pair this story with the account of Jesus and children. The children receive the kingdom because they are dependent on God and know that they don't qualify for the kingdom by their own rights. The rich man fails to enter the kingdom because, even though he had kept the commandments since he was a boy, was too attached to the treasure he had attained for himself to forsake it and receive a kingdom he could do nothing to earn.
It's the tax collector who prays simply, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner" who goes home justified (Lk. 18:13-14). And it's the Laodiceans, who claim, "I am rich. I have prospered, and I need nothing" who are about to be vomited from Christ's mouth (Rev. 3:16-17).
A few weeks ago I preached the funeral for a long-time member of my church. As I talked with her family and friends in preparation for the service, I learned that she had lived in Cincinnati for a number of years but then returned to her small rural hometown in order to care for her ailing parents. During that period of time, she often repeated Psalm 91 to herself. This Psalm begins, "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, "My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."
That's the attitude of the citizen of God's kingdom. Such a person has made God their dwelling-place, their refuge, their fortress, and their trust.
It's a kingdom filled with people who know they don't belong there.
And in God's eyes, that's the best kind of kingdom to have.
If I were writing the bylaws of the kingdom of God, I could come up some pretty good entrance requirements. Maybe a person would have to submit a lengthy application with letters of recommendation and a personal interview. Maybe they would have to perform good deed, like helping the poor or bringing peace of the Mid-East. Maybe they would have to successfully play a game of "Name That Tune," using hymns and Michael W. Smith songs. Maybe they would have to run an obstacle course like on that show Wipeout or win a hot dog eating contest.
I can think of a lot of qualities that ought to precede entrance into the kingdom: Personal righteousness. A solid family history. Lots of money. Talent. Intelligence.
And yet, when you read the gospel, you find that the most important qualification for membership in God's kingdom is the realization that none of these things matter. Those who are welcomes into the kingdom are those who recognize that they have nothing to offer but rather are completely dependent on the grace of God.
This doesn't happen in any other sphere of life. When you're applying to a college, you don't want to tell the dean, "I know my grades are terrible, and I certainly don't deserve to attend this university, but I'm hoping you'll let me in anyway." At a job interview, you shouldn't say, "I'm completely unqualified for this job, sure. But maybe you can give me the job out of your mercy and kindness?" And an immigrant who applies for U.S. citizenship shouldn't come to their test saying, "I don't know what that banner is with the stars and stripes on it, and I've never even heard of George Washington."
Everywhere else, citizenship and membership depends on what you do to earn it. But for God's kingdom, membership depends on understanding that nothing you do can earn it.
Jesus begins his Kingdom Manifesto by saying, "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn. Blessed are the meek. Blessed are those who hunger for righteousness. Blessed are the merciful. Blessed are the pure in heart. Blessed are the peacemakers. Blessed are the persecuted" (Matt. 5:3-10).
Nowhere in that list does one find "Blessed are the rich. Blessed are the powerful. Blessed are the talented. Blessed are the self-righteous. Blessed are the trophy-winners. Blessed are those in influential positions. Blessed are the ones who have achieved much. Blessed are the stylish. Blessed are the popular." In fact, more often than not, these qualities are what prevent people from entering God's kingdom.
Jesus once said that the kingdom of God belongs to those who receive it like a little child (Lk. 18:15-17). Perhaps the most noticeable characteristic of a child is that a child is completely dependent on others. A child can't feed himself; he needs to be fed. A child can shelter himself; he needs to be housed. A child can't get himself places; he needs to be driven. A child needs others in order to survive, and most kids who tried to run away when they were five came to this realization by the time they got to the other side of the street.
Shortly after Jesus welcomes the children, a rich and powerful up-and-comer asks him, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" (Lk. 18:18ff.) After some back-and-forth between the man and Jesus, it boils down to the command, "Sell all that you have and distribute tot he poor, and yo will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me." At this, the man turns around and walks home, unwilling to give up his possessions for the sake of following Jesus. As the man walks away with his head down, Jesus says to his disciples, "How difficult it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God! For it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God."
I think it's no accident that the gospels pair this story with the account of Jesus and children. The children receive the kingdom because they are dependent on God and know that they don't qualify for the kingdom by their own rights. The rich man fails to enter the kingdom because, even though he had kept the commandments since he was a boy, was too attached to the treasure he had attained for himself to forsake it and receive a kingdom he could do nothing to earn.
It's the tax collector who prays simply, "God, be merciful to me, a sinner" who goes home justified (Lk. 18:13-14). And it's the Laodiceans, who claim, "I am rich. I have prospered, and I need nothing" who are about to be vomited from Christ's mouth (Rev. 3:16-17).
A few weeks ago I preached the funeral for a long-time member of my church. As I talked with her family and friends in preparation for the service, I learned that she had lived in Cincinnati for a number of years but then returned to her small rural hometown in order to care for her ailing parents. During that period of time, she often repeated Psalm 91 to herself. This Psalm begins, "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, "My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust."
That's the attitude of the citizen of God's kingdom. Such a person has made God their dwelling-place, their refuge, their fortress, and their trust.
It's a kingdom filled with people who know they don't belong there.
And in God's eyes, that's the best kind of kingdom to have.
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
The Kingdom: Value
The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field. Against, the kingdom of heaven is like a merchant in search of fine pearls, who, on finding one pearl of great value, went and sold all that he had and bought it. (Matt. 13:44-46)The value of a thing is revealed by what you're willing to give up to attain it.
I love these two little parables that Jesus tells in Matthew 13. Everyone dreams at some point about stumbling across some sort of treasure. We want to be Jed Clampett, shootin' at some food only to discover a bubblin' crude. And if you're like me, sometimes you acquire an old coin, maybe a nickel minted in 1968, and you think, "Hey, I bet this is worth a lot of money!" But then you find out it's only worth five cents.
I've never found treasure in my backyard or in my piggy bank. But the man in the parable does. (I always wonder exactly how he discovered this treasure in the field. I imagine he tripped over a corner of a treasure chest sticking out of the ground and did a face-plant there in the field. Because face-plants are always funny, even in Jesus' time). But when he recognized the value of the treasure (maybe it was a whole box of Honus Wagner baseball cards), he goes home, sells all his stuff (certainly not a safe or conservative financial decision) and buys the field so that he can acquire the treasure.
It's the same story with the merchant. While rummaging through the merchandise at the market, he comes across a fantastic pearl, and realizing its worth, he also sells all he has and buys it. Perhaps he then kept it with him at all times, called it "My Precious," and began referring to himself as a plural.
Jesus says his kingdom is like the treasure and like the pearl. It is the most valuable thing imaginable, so any sacrifice is worth attaining it. The value of the kingdom is a common theme in Jesus' teaching. As he travels around Galilee among people caught up in family responsibilities, the need to make a living, and difficult political situations, he tells them that the most significant thing they can do is enter into God's kingdom. The value of all else pales in comparison.
Other passages in the gospel highlight the value of the kingdom. There are some who have made themselves eunuchs--that is, abstained from marriage--for the sake of the kingdom (Matt. 19:12). If your eye causes you to sin, you are told to pluck it out it's better to enter the kingdom with a pirate-y patch than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell (Mk. 9:47). And those who leave "home or wife or brothers or sisters or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom" will receive back exponentially more (Luke 18:29).
There are some in the gospels who fail to recognize the value of the kingdom, so they refuse to make sacrifices in order to be part of it. The rich young ruler wants to follow Jesus, but he's too attached to his wealth to give it up. And the bad news is that many people today, especially in American culture, frequently look more like the young ruler than anything else.
We all want a kingdom that can fit in with our lives as we've already crafted them. But the reality is that the kingdom doesn't fit into our lives. The kingdom demands our lives.
But the wonderful thing is that the kingdom is worth it. No amount of money, popularity, pleasure, or power compares with what is gained by citizenship in the kingdom. Why? Because God's kingdom is where God reigns, and he's the only king who is truly just, righteous, and loving. And that's worth buying the field.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
The Kingdom: Future
Oh hey!
So I've been sadly, though probably not noticeably, absent from the blogging scene for some time. I feel that a lame attempt at an excuse is necessary. You see, I got really lazy for a while...and then that laziness resulted in me becoming really busy for a while. But now, the busyness is done, and the laziness is being overcome for the next half hour at least, so it may be time to write a new post.
Before my hiatus, I had said I was going to write a series of blog posts on the topic of the kingdom of God. A couple months ago I performed a simple inductive study on the uses of the phrase "kingdom of God" and "kingdom of heaven" in the New Testament, and I was impressed by some of the themes that weave their way through biblical discourse on this topic. In my first post, I pointed out that the kingdom of God is imminent. In Mark 1:15, Jesus begins his ministry by preaching, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent and believe in the gospel." In some way, the kingdom became present with the advent of Jesus, and it continues to be so today. This is different from the way many, including my younger self, think of the kingdom. The "kingdom of God," isn't just another name for heaven or eternal life. It's present now and has contemporary relevance on our lives.
Does this mean, however, that the kingdom as it exists today is the extent of its nature? Is this all there is? I don't think so. The New Testament is adamant that the kingdom is a present reality, but at the same time, it is also still to come. It exists now, but it will exist in a fuller sense later on. The kingdom will be consummated, brought to full realization.
In Matthew 24-25, Jesus speaks of "that day and hour" and "the coming of the Son of Man." In the midst of this discussion, he begins a parable by saying, "Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom" (Matt. 25:1). The kingdom of God, therefore, has something to do with the return of Christ. In another instance, when someone asks if only a few will be saved, Jesus replies that the time will come when the master will shut the door, and those outside will "see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the people of the kingdom of God" from the outside. There is a sense in which the kingdom is still to come.
When you look at the book of Revelation, you see this kingdom coming. Revelation shows that God is on the throne now (Rev. 4-5), so the kingdom is also now. But evil still infects the world. However, hope comes in the fact that the king will return (Rev. 19:11-16), and Satan, along with all of his minions, will be thrown into the lake of fire with death itself (Rev. 20:10, 14). Then there will be a new heaven and a new earth, and king will declare, "Behold, I am making all things new!" (Rev. 21:5).
I think we all need to be reminded of this scene somewhat regularly. While the kingdom is imminent, and while the Holy Spirit currently dwells within those who belong to Christ, we all know from experience that the world is not as it should be. Jesus is on his throne, but for now, he allows Satan to continue to do his thing. That's the issue with which the people of Revelation are struggling ("How long before you judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?"). Our hope rests in the fact that the kingdom will be brought to fulfillment--evil will be destroyed, death will be no more, and we will be with God. Otherwise, "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied" (1 Cor. 15:19).
Last night I watched the movie Les Miserables. I thought the movie was very good and would recommend it, unless you really hate music or France. I think the most powerful scene in the film is the song "I Dreamed a Dream," sung by the character Fantine after she is forced by financial desperation into prostitution. She cries out, "I had a dream my life would be / So different from this hell I'm living / So different now from what it seemed / Now life has killed the dream I dreamed."
As the final credits rolled across my TV screen, I was struck with the knowledge that Fantine's fictional story is so often experienced in reality. There are millions, maybe billions, of people around the world who are living hell. The dragon seeks to destroy God's creatures. Children are forced into prostitution, women are enslaved, babies go hungry, couples get divorced, teenagers suffer loneliness. The world is not as it should be.
But the king is coming. Wrongs will be righted, justice will be meted out, and the enemy will be vanquished.
I love being a citizen of this kingdom. And I look forward to the day when it comes in all its fullness.
So I've been sadly, though probably not noticeably, absent from the blogging scene for some time. I feel that a lame attempt at an excuse is necessary. You see, I got really lazy for a while...and then that laziness resulted in me becoming really busy for a while. But now, the busyness is done, and the laziness is being overcome for the next half hour at least, so it may be time to write a new post.
Before my hiatus, I had said I was going to write a series of blog posts on the topic of the kingdom of God. A couple months ago I performed a simple inductive study on the uses of the phrase "kingdom of God" and "kingdom of heaven" in the New Testament, and I was impressed by some of the themes that weave their way through biblical discourse on this topic. In my first post, I pointed out that the kingdom of God is imminent. In Mark 1:15, Jesus begins his ministry by preaching, "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand: repent and believe in the gospel." In some way, the kingdom became present with the advent of Jesus, and it continues to be so today. This is different from the way many, including my younger self, think of the kingdom. The "kingdom of God," isn't just another name for heaven or eternal life. It's present now and has contemporary relevance on our lives.
Does this mean, however, that the kingdom as it exists today is the extent of its nature? Is this all there is? I don't think so. The New Testament is adamant that the kingdom is a present reality, but at the same time, it is also still to come. It exists now, but it will exist in a fuller sense later on. The kingdom will be consummated, brought to full realization.
In Matthew 24-25, Jesus speaks of "that day and hour" and "the coming of the Son of Man." In the midst of this discussion, he begins a parable by saying, "Then the kingdom of heaven will be like ten virgins who took their lamps and went to meet the bridegroom" (Matt. 25:1). The kingdom of God, therefore, has something to do with the return of Christ. In another instance, when someone asks if only a few will be saved, Jesus replies that the time will come when the master will shut the door, and those outside will "see Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and all the people of the kingdom of God" from the outside. There is a sense in which the kingdom is still to come.
When you look at the book of Revelation, you see this kingdom coming. Revelation shows that God is on the throne now (Rev. 4-5), so the kingdom is also now. But evil still infects the world. However, hope comes in the fact that the king will return (Rev. 19:11-16), and Satan, along with all of his minions, will be thrown into the lake of fire with death itself (Rev. 20:10, 14). Then there will be a new heaven and a new earth, and king will declare, "Behold, I am making all things new!" (Rev. 21:5).
I think we all need to be reminded of this scene somewhat regularly. While the kingdom is imminent, and while the Holy Spirit currently dwells within those who belong to Christ, we all know from experience that the world is not as it should be. Jesus is on his throne, but for now, he allows Satan to continue to do his thing. That's the issue with which the people of Revelation are struggling ("How long before you judge and avenge our blood on those who dwell on the earth?"). Our hope rests in the fact that the kingdom will be brought to fulfillment--evil will be destroyed, death will be no more, and we will be with God. Otherwise, "If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied" (1 Cor. 15:19).
Last night I watched the movie Les Miserables. I thought the movie was very good and would recommend it, unless you really hate music or France. I think the most powerful scene in the film is the song "I Dreamed a Dream," sung by the character Fantine after she is forced by financial desperation into prostitution. She cries out, "I had a dream my life would be / So different from this hell I'm living / So different now from what it seemed / Now life has killed the dream I dreamed."
As the final credits rolled across my TV screen, I was struck with the knowledge that Fantine's fictional story is so often experienced in reality. There are millions, maybe billions, of people around the world who are living hell. The dragon seeks to destroy God's creatures. Children are forced into prostitution, women are enslaved, babies go hungry, couples get divorced, teenagers suffer loneliness. The world is not as it should be.
But the king is coming. Wrongs will be righted, justice will be meted out, and the enemy will be vanquished.
I love being a citizen of this kingdom. And I look forward to the day when it comes in all its fullness.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
The Problem of Me
A few days ago I wrote saying that I was starting a series of posts on the kingdom of God. This post doesn't fit into that series. I'll still write them, but I did some reflecting during my drive to school today (one of the very few benefits of city traffic), and I wanted to get some of these thoughts down while they're still fresh.
I, just like many other people, don't always like how every aspect of my life is going. I have frustrations and problems. There are things that I would like to change. I think we all go through that. If you don't, you're simply a much more complete person that I am, and those of us who are struggling could certainly benefit from your insights.
I've discovered recently that I have developed a bad habit of pinning these problems in my life to external situations. I have found ways to blame negative elements of my life on things outside of myself that, for the most part, I have no real control over. Some circumstance, situation, event, or other person becomes the thing I point to and say, "And that's the source of all my problems."
What I'm realizing, however, is that my biggest problem is me.
Maybe a couple examples will help illustrate what I mean. For the first year and a half after I moved to Cincinnati, I worked in a retail job that I did not like at all. I had a long list of grievances running in my head, filled with reasons that this job was the bane of my existence. At the top of the list was probably the scheduling. I had to work significantly more hours than I wanted to, and the hours that I did work were sporadic. It was hard to get into any sort of routine, and this type of schedule was not conducive to my life as a student. I had trouble staying on top of my schoolwork, and I also struggled to keep up with my various other responsibilities. My apartment was always messy because I never had time to clean up. I had stacks of unopened mail that I hadn't had time to sort through. I was forced to write papers or study for tests at the last moment, and I would often only practice my sermons on Sunday morning before I left for church.
Through all of this, I thought, "Man, things would be so much easier if my work schedule was different. Then I could be much more productive. I would get ahead on my responsibilities. This stupid job is keeping me from being the type of person I could be."
And then about six weeks ago, I did get a new job. I quit my old one. And my new work schedule is completely different. I work fewer hours per week, and there is a consistency in the schedule. I'm never there past one in the afternoon, and my Fridays and Saturdays are totally free. I finally have the time to take care the things that need to get done. And yet, even after six weeks on my new schedule, I'm still behind in school. I still don't feel prepared when I get up to preach on Sunday mornings. My coffee table is still cluttered with empty Coke cans, and my sink is still overflowing with dirty dishes.
I thought my problem was my work schedule. That was something external, something I couldn't really control, and thus something that I could complain about, allowing me to stay how I was. But even with that circumstance removed, my problems of lack of productivity continues. So maybe it was never an external problem at all. The issue wasn't my work schedule. The issue is just that I'm a lazy person. Even when I have a lot of time on my hands, I use it watching Netflix or checking out YouTube videos, and the real issue is never resolved.
Or, for another example, it's no secret that I haven't had much relational success in my life, and I've written frequently about that and joked about it. (Unless you happen to be Katie the Bank Teller. If you're reading this....I was completely serious about everything I've written about you on here. Call me.) I haven't been on a date in three years, and even then, I think she probably went to be ironic or something. And over the years, I've had some "near misses" with some relationships, but the externals got in the way. A girl I was interested in would mistreat me in some way, or there would be insurmountable circumstances, or the timing wouldn't be just right. So I would point to these externals and use them to portray myself as a victim--a victim of another person, a victim of fate, a victim of bad luck, or whatever else.
But what I'm seeing more and more is that these externals aren't the problem. The problem is within me. I'm a selfish person. I'm a cowardly person. I'm an unwise person. And these internals are more than likely what causes relational problems in my life. I have no right to complain about being a victim unless I recognize that I'm only a victim of myself.
This is an incredibly difficult realization to deal with. No one likes to be confronted with the nasty things inside of them. Each of us pictures ourselves as the hero of the story. We never imagine that we could be the villains. You look in the mirror and expect to see an Adonis, but the person staring back at you is an overweight kid with a horrible bowl-cut. It's painful to come face to face with your personal flaws, especially when those flaws shatter the ideal self-understanding you had created.
To blame an external problem is a cop-out, and I've been doing it for a long time. It keeps me from having to face the type of person I really am, the person I try to ignore. When I look at myself, and I mean really look, much of what I see is pretty gross.
And yet, as difficult as all of this is, it's only at this point that positive change can take place. And that's the key. Otherwise, my fatalism with regard to circumstances is only replaced with a fatalism with regard to myself, and that's not helpful. It's even more destructive. It doesn't help if I go from saying, "Well, that's the way things are, and I can't change it" to saying "Well, that's the way I am, and I can't change it."
No, recognizing my internal problems puts me in the position for change and growth. I'm a lazy, undisciplined person. And when I stop pinning problems on my work schedule and face the ugly truth that I am lazy, then I can begin to take steps to be less lazy. I'm also an incredibly selfish person. And when I stop blaming poor relationships on what whatever girl did to me in the past or on whatever situation I can't control, and I face up the fact that I am consistently selfish, then I can begin to replace that selfishness with love.
I'm coming to understand that I'm not near as good as I thought I was. But my hope is that this enables me to become better than I am.
I, just like many other people, don't always like how every aspect of my life is going. I have frustrations and problems. There are things that I would like to change. I think we all go through that. If you don't, you're simply a much more complete person that I am, and those of us who are struggling could certainly benefit from your insights.
I've discovered recently that I have developed a bad habit of pinning these problems in my life to external situations. I have found ways to blame negative elements of my life on things outside of myself that, for the most part, I have no real control over. Some circumstance, situation, event, or other person becomes the thing I point to and say, "And that's the source of all my problems."
What I'm realizing, however, is that my biggest problem is me.
Maybe a couple examples will help illustrate what I mean. For the first year and a half after I moved to Cincinnati, I worked in a retail job that I did not like at all. I had a long list of grievances running in my head, filled with reasons that this job was the bane of my existence. At the top of the list was probably the scheduling. I had to work significantly more hours than I wanted to, and the hours that I did work were sporadic. It was hard to get into any sort of routine, and this type of schedule was not conducive to my life as a student. I had trouble staying on top of my schoolwork, and I also struggled to keep up with my various other responsibilities. My apartment was always messy because I never had time to clean up. I had stacks of unopened mail that I hadn't had time to sort through. I was forced to write papers or study for tests at the last moment, and I would often only practice my sermons on Sunday morning before I left for church.
Through all of this, I thought, "Man, things would be so much easier if my work schedule was different. Then I could be much more productive. I would get ahead on my responsibilities. This stupid job is keeping me from being the type of person I could be."
And then about six weeks ago, I did get a new job. I quit my old one. And my new work schedule is completely different. I work fewer hours per week, and there is a consistency in the schedule. I'm never there past one in the afternoon, and my Fridays and Saturdays are totally free. I finally have the time to take care the things that need to get done. And yet, even after six weeks on my new schedule, I'm still behind in school. I still don't feel prepared when I get up to preach on Sunday mornings. My coffee table is still cluttered with empty Coke cans, and my sink is still overflowing with dirty dishes.
I thought my problem was my work schedule. That was something external, something I couldn't really control, and thus something that I could complain about, allowing me to stay how I was. But even with that circumstance removed, my problems of lack of productivity continues. So maybe it was never an external problem at all. The issue wasn't my work schedule. The issue is just that I'm a lazy person. Even when I have a lot of time on my hands, I use it watching Netflix or checking out YouTube videos, and the real issue is never resolved.
Or, for another example, it's no secret that I haven't had much relational success in my life, and I've written frequently about that and joked about it. (Unless you happen to be Katie the Bank Teller. If you're reading this....I was completely serious about everything I've written about you on here. Call me.) I haven't been on a date in three years, and even then, I think she probably went to be ironic or something. And over the years, I've had some "near misses" with some relationships, but the externals got in the way. A girl I was interested in would mistreat me in some way, or there would be insurmountable circumstances, or the timing wouldn't be just right. So I would point to these externals and use them to portray myself as a victim--a victim of another person, a victim of fate, a victim of bad luck, or whatever else.
But what I'm seeing more and more is that these externals aren't the problem. The problem is within me. I'm a selfish person. I'm a cowardly person. I'm an unwise person. And these internals are more than likely what causes relational problems in my life. I have no right to complain about being a victim unless I recognize that I'm only a victim of myself.
This is an incredibly difficult realization to deal with. No one likes to be confronted with the nasty things inside of them. Each of us pictures ourselves as the hero of the story. We never imagine that we could be the villains. You look in the mirror and expect to see an Adonis, but the person staring back at you is an overweight kid with a horrible bowl-cut. It's painful to come face to face with your personal flaws, especially when those flaws shatter the ideal self-understanding you had created.
To blame an external problem is a cop-out, and I've been doing it for a long time. It keeps me from having to face the type of person I really am, the person I try to ignore. When I look at myself, and I mean really look, much of what I see is pretty gross.
And yet, as difficult as all of this is, it's only at this point that positive change can take place. And that's the key. Otherwise, my fatalism with regard to circumstances is only replaced with a fatalism with regard to myself, and that's not helpful. It's even more destructive. It doesn't help if I go from saying, "Well, that's the way things are, and I can't change it" to saying "Well, that's the way I am, and I can't change it."
No, recognizing my internal problems puts me in the position for change and growth. I'm a lazy, undisciplined person. And when I stop pinning problems on my work schedule and face the ugly truth that I am lazy, then I can begin to take steps to be less lazy. I'm also an incredibly selfish person. And when I stop blaming poor relationships on what whatever girl did to me in the past or on whatever situation I can't control, and I face up the fact that I am consistently selfish, then I can begin to replace that selfishness with love.
I'm coming to understand that I'm not near as good as I thought I was. But my hope is that this enables me to become better than I am.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
The Kingdom: Imminent
This morning I did one of the most ludicrous things that I've ever attempted in my short time as a preacher. My church is in the middle of a sermon series titled "Why Jesus?", and we are talking about why Jesus is God's answer to the world. Specifically, we're asking questions like "Why was Jesus born?", "Why did Jesus die?" and "Why did Jesus resurrect?" This morning, the topic was "Why did Jesus live?", and so I undertook in one sermon to talk about how Jesus' life and ministry inaugurated the "kingdom of God."
That topic is much to big for a single sermon. Jesus spent three years talking about the kingdom of God, and I tried to do it in half an hour.
When I started working on my sermon, I really had no idea where to start. So I did something that can be helpful whenever you're preaching or teaching on a big topic like this. I printed off a list of all the verses that include the phrase "kingdom of God" or "kingdom of heaven," and I went through and wrote a couple words next to each one to note what each is saying about the kingdom. Pretty soon, certain trends start to emerge. Of course, there are certain limitations to this type of study, since a passage doesn't need to specifically mention the phrase "kingdom of God" in order to be communicating something about the kingdom. But it's a good place to start, at least. And while I realized that there was no way it could all make it into my sermon, I did think, "This wouldn't make a bad series of blog posts." And so that's what I'll be doing for a while--sharing some of the truths that came from my brief observations in these passages.
I remember that for a long time, whenever I read about the kingdom of God in the Bible, I always assumed it was just another way of speaking about heaven. That the kingdom of God is where Christian go when they die. And thus, it was a future reality. Something spiritual, vague, and ethereal that would be later on, and thus something that didn't have that much bearing on my life right now.
But one of the most noticeable themes concerning God's kingdom (that is, God's reign on earth) is that the kingdom is imminent. It's near. In the ministry and person of Jesus, it was already breaking into the world. We see this when Jesus begins his preaching ministry. Mark 1:14-15 says, "Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel." These are the first words that show up in red ink my Bible. As far as Mark is concerned, these are the first words of Jesus. That suggests that what he says here, this "gospel" that he proclaims, is going to set the tone for the rest of his ministry. And what is that gospel? It's the the kingdom is at hand. The kingdom is coming to earth in Christ. The word translated "is at hand" (εγγιζω) is in a tense that suggests an event that has already occurred but has continuing implications. When Jesus is preaching, the kingdom has come.
Luke 17:20-21 makes this even more clear. The Pharisees come to Jesus and ask, "When is the kingdom of God coming?" He responds by saying, "The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, 'Look, here it is!' or 'There!' for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you." The Pharisees had been looking in a pot on the stove, waiting for the kingdom to start bubbling up, but they didn't realize that it was already boiling all around them. They were expecting to drive down the highway and see a sign saying "Kingdom of God: 45 miles," but they had already reached the location.
The kingdom of God exists, at least in part, now. It was inaugurated in the life and death of Jesus. Wherever people have oriented their lives toward God and are living as thought God is on the throne, that's where the kingdom is. If the kingdom were purely future, I could dismiss it as having no present-day relevance. But if the kingdom is now, and if God is on the throne now, and if I'm invited to be a citizen of this kingdom now...then that changes everything.
That topic is much to big for a single sermon. Jesus spent three years talking about the kingdom of God, and I tried to do it in half an hour.
When I started working on my sermon, I really had no idea where to start. So I did something that can be helpful whenever you're preaching or teaching on a big topic like this. I printed off a list of all the verses that include the phrase "kingdom of God" or "kingdom of heaven," and I went through and wrote a couple words next to each one to note what each is saying about the kingdom. Pretty soon, certain trends start to emerge. Of course, there are certain limitations to this type of study, since a passage doesn't need to specifically mention the phrase "kingdom of God" in order to be communicating something about the kingdom. But it's a good place to start, at least. And while I realized that there was no way it could all make it into my sermon, I did think, "This wouldn't make a bad series of blog posts." And so that's what I'll be doing for a while--sharing some of the truths that came from my brief observations in these passages.
I remember that for a long time, whenever I read about the kingdom of God in the Bible, I always assumed it was just another way of speaking about heaven. That the kingdom of God is where Christian go when they die. And thus, it was a future reality. Something spiritual, vague, and ethereal that would be later on, and thus something that didn't have that much bearing on my life right now.
But one of the most noticeable themes concerning God's kingdom (that is, God's reign on earth) is that the kingdom is imminent. It's near. In the ministry and person of Jesus, it was already breaking into the world. We see this when Jesus begins his preaching ministry. Mark 1:14-15 says, "Now after John was arrested, Jesus came into Galilee, proclaiming the gospel of God, and saying "The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel." These are the first words that show up in red ink my Bible. As far as Mark is concerned, these are the first words of Jesus. That suggests that what he says here, this "gospel" that he proclaims, is going to set the tone for the rest of his ministry. And what is that gospel? It's the the kingdom is at hand. The kingdom is coming to earth in Christ. The word translated "is at hand" (εγγιζω) is in a tense that suggests an event that has already occurred but has continuing implications. When Jesus is preaching, the kingdom has come.
Luke 17:20-21 makes this even more clear. The Pharisees come to Jesus and ask, "When is the kingdom of God coming?" He responds by saying, "The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, 'Look, here it is!' or 'There!' for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you." The Pharisees had been looking in a pot on the stove, waiting for the kingdom to start bubbling up, but they didn't realize that it was already boiling all around them. They were expecting to drive down the highway and see a sign saying "Kingdom of God: 45 miles," but they had already reached the location.
The kingdom of God exists, at least in part, now. It was inaugurated in the life and death of Jesus. Wherever people have oriented their lives toward God and are living as thought God is on the throne, that's where the kingdom is. If the kingdom were purely future, I could dismiss it as having no present-day relevance. But if the kingdom is now, and if God is on the throne now, and if I'm invited to be a citizen of this kingdom now...then that changes everything.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Sounded Forth
This morning I read through the first chapter of 1 Thessalonians, and I wanted to share what Paul says to these church at Thessalonica:
That's a question that many ministers find need to address. How do people hear about our church? Church leaders spend a lot of time and energy on "getting our name out there." We'll erect slick and stylish church signs. We'll offer coffee and donuts, and not the cheap stuff, either. We'll be sure that our worship is on a podcast and that our website has social media features. We'll buy our youth minister the tightest v-neck and thick-rimmed glasses. We'll send mailings to every household within 10 miles.
The Thessalonians were well-known, but it wasn't because of their marketing strategies. It was because of their "work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope." It was because they imitated Christ. It was because they turned away from idols to the only true God.
I'm not at all against podcasts or cool buildings or any of that stuff. But we run into problems when we make those things our primary strategy for church growth as opposed to living lives of faith. The church gains attention when it acts like the church. Thessalonica's faith rang out in the world like sound from a giant megaphone, not because they were the biggest show in town, but because they followed Jesus faithfully.
I can't just apply this to our churches, though. When I read this passage, I'm forced to ask the same types of questions about my own life. How do people know I'm a Christian? Is it because I go to a seminary? Is it because I wear Christ In Youth t-shirts? Is it because I carry around books by N.T. Wright or have Phil Wickham on my iPod?
Or, is it because of my faith, hope, and love? Is it because I'm leaving behind the cheap gods of the world in order to pursue my Creator? Is it because when people see me, they see Jesus somehow? That's the type of Christian I want to be.
Especially since I look so bad in a v-neck.
We give thanks to God always for all of you, constantly mentioning you in our prayers, remembering before our God and Father your work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. For we know, brothers loved by God, that he has chosen you, because our gospel came to you not only in word, but also in power and in the Holy Spirit and with full conviction. You know what kind of men we proved to be among you for your sake. And you became imitators of us and of the Lord, for you received the word in much affliction, with the joy of the Holy Spirit, so that you became an example to all the believers in Macedonia and in Achaia. For not only has the word of the Lord sounded forth from you in Macedonia and Achaia, but your faith in God has gone forth everywhere, so that we need not say anything. For they themselves report concerning us the kind of reception we had among you, and how you turned to God from idols to serve the living and true God, and to wait for his Son from heaven, whom he raised from the dead, Jesus who delivers us from the wrath to come. (1 Thess. 1:2-10)Those are pretty nice words. Paul heaps a lot of praise on the Thessalonian believers. He comments on how their faith has become well-known, not just in the surrounding areas, but all over the world. And it made me ask, "How do people hear about our churches?"
That's a question that many ministers find need to address. How do people hear about our church? Church leaders spend a lot of time and energy on "getting our name out there." We'll erect slick and stylish church signs. We'll offer coffee and donuts, and not the cheap stuff, either. We'll be sure that our worship is on a podcast and that our website has social media features. We'll buy our youth minister the tightest v-neck and thick-rimmed glasses. We'll send mailings to every household within 10 miles.
The Thessalonians were well-known, but it wasn't because of their marketing strategies. It was because of their "work of faith and labor of love and steadfastness of hope." It was because they imitated Christ. It was because they turned away from idols to the only true God.
I'm not at all against podcasts or cool buildings or any of that stuff. But we run into problems when we make those things our primary strategy for church growth as opposed to living lives of faith. The church gains attention when it acts like the church. Thessalonica's faith rang out in the world like sound from a giant megaphone, not because they were the biggest show in town, but because they followed Jesus faithfully.
I can't just apply this to our churches, though. When I read this passage, I'm forced to ask the same types of questions about my own life. How do people know I'm a Christian? Is it because I go to a seminary? Is it because I wear Christ In Youth t-shirts? Is it because I carry around books by N.T. Wright or have Phil Wickham on my iPod?
Or, is it because of my faith, hope, and love? Is it because I'm leaving behind the cheap gods of the world in order to pursue my Creator? Is it because when people see me, they see Jesus somehow? That's the type of Christian I want to be.
Especially since I look so bad in a v-neck.
Friday, February 22, 2013
The Loudest Wins
Several weeks ago, I saw a video online taken from Piers Morgan's show on CNN. I've debated with myself about whether or not to put up a link to this video, because I try not to intentionally inflict headaches on other people, but if you're really interested, you can see it here. The clip includes a conversation (using the term loosely) between Morgan and another man on the topic of gun control. Most of the video is just this guest screaming out half-facts and a few conspiracy theories in order to support his position that Americans should retain the right to possess any and every kind of weapon.
Even if I was a hardcore Second Amendment advocate, I think I would cease to be so after hearing this man's argument. But whatever.
My purpose in this post isn't to talk about gun rights. But what this video clip brought into very clear focus for me is that we are a country that has forgotten how to disagree well.
It's obvious that we live in a very divided society--one that is divided on a large number of issues. Every topic involves a debate: economic policies, gun control, abortion, homosexual marriage, energy, foreign policy. And those are just some of the major national issues. We argue about a host of other things as well: sports teams, Oscar predictions, and whether In-N-Out or Five Guys has better burgers.
Disagreements themselves aren't that bad. Of course we're not always going to see eye-to-eye. But our ability to express those disagreements and have a constructive conversation about some of these issues is lacking. If you've ever flipped on a cable news channel, been to a meeting of any sort, or scrolled through a YouTube comment section, you know what I'm talking about. People use issues of disagreement as boundary markers between themselves and anyone who thinks differently, and they lob verbal grenades into the "enemy territory" and hope to injure as many as possible.
We've created a world in which, if you don't agree with me on something, I have the right to make you an enemy. We villainize each other over our stances, putting each other in boxes according to how we see things. We fight wars instead of holding discussions. We try to tear each other down and bulldoze each other with our arguments instead of trying to come to the truth together.
For this reason, I don't often write about the "hot button" issues on my blog. To do so is so easy, and in that process, it's also easy to take a militaristic stance in which I'm more concerned with protecting my own pride and destroying my opposition than I am about having an intelligent conversation on an issue. That is not to say that I think these issues are not important. I think they are. But I also think that those sorts of conversations are usually better had in a different medium than here. Besides, how well would you be able to focus on the issue when you keep getting distracted by how attractive I am in my picture to the right?
Sadly, it's often the same story in the church when it comes to our inability to disagree well. And in the church, there are a lot of things to disagree about. There are biblical disagreements ("Does Genesis 1 mean that the world was created in six 24-hour days, or might it have been longer?"). There are theological disagreements ("Does God choose who will be saved, or is it up to us?"). There are ecclesiastical disagreements ("Can women be elders in the church or not?"). There are ethical disagreements ("How exactly should the church respond to the prospect of gay marriage?"). There are practical disagreements ("Should we give more money in the budget to the youth ministry or to missions?").
The church can seem like a minefield of potentially explosive issues, and navigating it can be a daunting task. It's even more threatening when you're a visible leader int he church and congregants constantly check your viewpoints against what they perceive as "scriptural fidelity." If you have an opinion that differs from another, you can be labeled as a false teacher or wolf in sheep's clothing.
So what's the point of all of this? Simply this: I urge you to please practice disagreeing well. Each topic of debate doesn't have to be an occasion for yelling over and belittling one another. I'm not saying that all viewpoints are equal or that we can't make absolute statements. But if our conversations aren't filled with love and respect, nothing is gained. So let's try to recapture civilized discourse, because nothing is being helped by all our yelling. Or, in our online society, by TYPING IN ALL CAPS LIKE THIS TO SHOW HOW ANGRY AND/OR PASSIONATE WE REALLY ARE!
Even if I was a hardcore Second Amendment advocate, I think I would cease to be so after hearing this man's argument. But whatever.
My purpose in this post isn't to talk about gun rights. But what this video clip brought into very clear focus for me is that we are a country that has forgotten how to disagree well.
It's obvious that we live in a very divided society--one that is divided on a large number of issues. Every topic involves a debate: economic policies, gun control, abortion, homosexual marriage, energy, foreign policy. And those are just some of the major national issues. We argue about a host of other things as well: sports teams, Oscar predictions, and whether In-N-Out or Five Guys has better burgers.
Disagreements themselves aren't that bad. Of course we're not always going to see eye-to-eye. But our ability to express those disagreements and have a constructive conversation about some of these issues is lacking. If you've ever flipped on a cable news channel, been to a meeting of any sort, or scrolled through a YouTube comment section, you know what I'm talking about. People use issues of disagreement as boundary markers between themselves and anyone who thinks differently, and they lob verbal grenades into the "enemy territory" and hope to injure as many as possible.
We've created a world in which, if you don't agree with me on something, I have the right to make you an enemy. We villainize each other over our stances, putting each other in boxes according to how we see things. We fight wars instead of holding discussions. We try to tear each other down and bulldoze each other with our arguments instead of trying to come to the truth together.
For this reason, I don't often write about the "hot button" issues on my blog. To do so is so easy, and in that process, it's also easy to take a militaristic stance in which I'm more concerned with protecting my own pride and destroying my opposition than I am about having an intelligent conversation on an issue. That is not to say that I think these issues are not important. I think they are. But I also think that those sorts of conversations are usually better had in a different medium than here. Besides, how well would you be able to focus on the issue when you keep getting distracted by how attractive I am in my picture to the right?
Sadly, it's often the same story in the church when it comes to our inability to disagree well. And in the church, there are a lot of things to disagree about. There are biblical disagreements ("Does Genesis 1 mean that the world was created in six 24-hour days, or might it have been longer?"). There are theological disagreements ("Does God choose who will be saved, or is it up to us?"). There are ecclesiastical disagreements ("Can women be elders in the church or not?"). There are ethical disagreements ("How exactly should the church respond to the prospect of gay marriage?"). There are practical disagreements ("Should we give more money in the budget to the youth ministry or to missions?").
The church can seem like a minefield of potentially explosive issues, and navigating it can be a daunting task. It's even more threatening when you're a visible leader int he church and congregants constantly check your viewpoints against what they perceive as "scriptural fidelity." If you have an opinion that differs from another, you can be labeled as a false teacher or wolf in sheep's clothing.
So what's the point of all of this? Simply this: I urge you to please practice disagreeing well. Each topic of debate doesn't have to be an occasion for yelling over and belittling one another. I'm not saying that all viewpoints are equal or that we can't make absolute statements. But if our conversations aren't filled with love and respect, nothing is gained. So let's try to recapture civilized discourse, because nothing is being helped by all our yelling. Or, in our online society, by TYPING IN ALL CAPS LIKE THIS TO SHOW HOW ANGRY AND/OR PASSIONATE WE REALLY ARE!
Saturday, February 16, 2013
The Fear of What Ifs
Whenever you make a decision, you say, "No."
Maybe you've never thought of it on those terms before. It might be more common to think that whenever you make a decision, you say "Yes" to whatever it is you're choosing. But the flip-side of that is that you also say "No" to whatever it is you're not choosing. Every yes is balanced with a no, or with many of them.
A few examples might help illustrate what I mean. Imagine that you choose to marry a certain woman, say a your local, friendly bank teller. By saying "Yes" to marrying her, you're saying "No" to all the other pretty bank tellers, as well as to all the other women out there. Or, if you accept a new job, you say "Yes" to that position and "No" to others. If you have Cap'n Crunch for breakfast, you say "Yes" to that cereal and "No" to the Wheaties, toast, omelette, and leftover pizza.
I'm not always a great decision-maker, and reflection on that fact has led me to think through all of this. Whenever I'm faced with a difficult decision, my strategy is usually to put it off for as long as possible. If I push it off for long enough, maybe the whole issue will just disappear. And if I do this, I'm sure that others do as well.
This can be a major problem, because every moment of decision becomes associated with the "What If?" game. I can go to Wendy's for dinner, but what if I would have like Arby's better? I can wear this blue shirt, but what if that bank teller likes red shirts? I can take the interstate downtown, but what if there's traffic and another route would be quicker?
Those example are pretty immaterial, of course. And so all of us make those sorts of decisions without much thought. If you choose wrong about what you should have for breakfast, the consequences aren't very large or lasting.
But what about when it comes to larger decisions? This is where the problem arises. I can decide to live in one place, but what if I would have liked another location better? I could take this job, but what if a better job comes up next week? I could date this girl, but what if there's someone else out there that I would mesh with better? I could choose this college, but what if I would have received a better education elsewhere?
This is decision-making based on fear. A person can hesitate to take a step in any direction for fear of going in the wrong direction. And while fear can be a powerful motivation in life, it's not a very helpful one--especially when that fear is debilitating. We shouldn't let fear of the "What ifs" be something that keeps us from taking leaps and moving forward.
People like me want so badly to choose the absolute best, but sadly, this can lead to not really choosing anything at all. And then once a decision is made, it leads to a lot of self-doubt and second-guessing. And I don't think that's the way life was meant to be. Fear choosing wrongly shouldn't keep one from choosing at all.
And besides, the Arby's/Wendy's debate is a moot point. Everyone knows you should just go to Chick-fil-A.
Maybe you've never thought of it on those terms before. It might be more common to think that whenever you make a decision, you say "Yes" to whatever it is you're choosing. But the flip-side of that is that you also say "No" to whatever it is you're not choosing. Every yes is balanced with a no, or with many of them.
A few examples might help illustrate what I mean. Imagine that you choose to marry a certain woman, say a your local, friendly bank teller. By saying "Yes" to marrying her, you're saying "No" to all the other pretty bank tellers, as well as to all the other women out there. Or, if you accept a new job, you say "Yes" to that position and "No" to others. If you have Cap'n Crunch for breakfast, you say "Yes" to that cereal and "No" to the Wheaties, toast, omelette, and leftover pizza.
I'm not always a great decision-maker, and reflection on that fact has led me to think through all of this. Whenever I'm faced with a difficult decision, my strategy is usually to put it off for as long as possible. If I push it off for long enough, maybe the whole issue will just disappear. And if I do this, I'm sure that others do as well.
This can be a major problem, because every moment of decision becomes associated with the "What If?" game. I can go to Wendy's for dinner, but what if I would have like Arby's better? I can wear this blue shirt, but what if that bank teller likes red shirts? I can take the interstate downtown, but what if there's traffic and another route would be quicker?
Those example are pretty immaterial, of course. And so all of us make those sorts of decisions without much thought. If you choose wrong about what you should have for breakfast, the consequences aren't very large or lasting.
But what about when it comes to larger decisions? This is where the problem arises. I can decide to live in one place, but what if I would have liked another location better? I could take this job, but what if a better job comes up next week? I could date this girl, but what if there's someone else out there that I would mesh with better? I could choose this college, but what if I would have received a better education elsewhere?
This is decision-making based on fear. A person can hesitate to take a step in any direction for fear of going in the wrong direction. And while fear can be a powerful motivation in life, it's not a very helpful one--especially when that fear is debilitating. We shouldn't let fear of the "What ifs" be something that keeps us from taking leaps and moving forward.
People like me want so badly to choose the absolute best, but sadly, this can lead to not really choosing anything at all. And then once a decision is made, it leads to a lot of self-doubt and second-guessing. And I don't think that's the way life was meant to be. Fear choosing wrongly shouldn't keep one from choosing at all.
And besides, the Arby's/Wendy's debate is a moot point. Everyone knows you should just go to Chick-fil-A.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
That's Just the Way Things Are. Or Maybe Not.
I feel a need here at the beginning to apologize for being absent from the blogging world for quite some time. I've been fairly busy over the past few weeks, what with beginning a new semester of classes, starting a new job, and making my Valentine's Day plans (which, so far, solely consists of me eating some chicken). But now I'm back and better than ever. And by "better than ever," I mean about the same as I was before.
Several weeks ago I had a conversation with an old friend from high school, and I have been reflecting on part of the discussion since then. We were at a mutual friend's wedding, and we spent some time catching up on each other's lives, since we hadn't seen each other in several years. After a while, my friend asked me, "Well David, what's your five-year plan?" I thought the question was an interesting one, and even though I hear the term "five year plan" thrown around quite a bit, no one had ever asked me what mine might be.
Of course, a five-year plan is the result of a person examining their goals and wants and visualizing what he or she would like life to be like five years in the future. Unfortunately for the conversation, I didn't have much of an answer to offer to the question. I haven't developed a five-year plan, and I never have. I normally operate under the principle of a five-minute plan, and I don't think ahead much farther than that. When I was unable to eloquently answer the question, my friend asked what I see for my future, and I said something about how I hope to finish school next year, and then I'll go somewhere and do something...and that's about all I know for now.
I felt that I was unfairly put on the spot by having to have mapped out my next five years while snacking on the candy bar at this wedding, so I asked my friend what her five-year plan. And, to my chagrin, she had it mapped out. She talked about how she plans to be married in five years, and how she wants to have a certain type of job and live in a certain type of place, and how she has all sorts of other goals that she hopes to achieve.
As my friend was talking about all these plans, the thought that passed through my head was: "It would be silly for me to plan out things like that. Those are all things I have no control over."
You probably think that such a thought is absurd. But it's truly the first thing that came to my mind. Why would I make plans to get married within five years? I have no control over that. Why would I have goals about my professional life? That's out of my hands. Why decide that I want to have achieved certain things when it's not up to me?
I'm a fatalist. A recovering fatalist, I hope. Or at the very least, I'm a fatalist who recognizes that he is a fatalist and identifies himself as such on the Internet for all to see, which is perhaps the first stage of recovery. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that my initial reaction in that conversation at the wedding, no matter how genuine, is flawed.
And this is why, quite frankly, some elements of my life are not where I would like them to be. I've abdicated my responsibility for living my own life and handed it all over to fate or luck or pure chance.
I moved to Ohio about a year and a half ago, and recently I was thinking about how I would characterize each six month period since then. To be honest, much of it hasn't been good. This isn't to mean that good things haven't happened. I've made some great friends, and I've had a lot of good times, and I've been to some Reds games. But I would say that in my first six months, I struggled mightily with loneliness, as I adjusted to living on my own in a city where I knew very few people. My second sixth months were characterized by high levels of busyness and stress as I juggled school, work, and ministry, and spent what seemed to be every night fighting off sleep while working at my desk in the middle of the night. And, after all of that, I see the last six months as the period in which I just stopped caring. I procrastinated more, allowed my apartment to become even more cluttered than usual, ate even more unhealthily than usual (which is saying something!), and spent more time laying on my couch than anything else.
A fatalist can get away with such behavior. If there is nothing you can do to improve your situation in life, why care at all? Chances are, the next six months won't be any better than the previous eighteen.
But why does that have to be the case? It doesn't, of course. And as a new year rolled around, I said to myself (probably out loud...I'm still adjusting to living alone, or maybe I'm just losing my mind), "You know David, this year doesn't have to be defined by something negative. It can be the year you move forward. It could be the year that you grow and develop more than any other year of your life. After all, you're probably the best-looking, most sharply dressed man living in this entire apartment. The story of this year hasn't been told yet, so there's no need to hang your head and act like the end credits are already rolling. So get out there and start making something happen. Oh, and don't forget to pick up a loaf of bread at Kroger today."
So why would I share all of this somewhat personal material here, as well as share how I talk to myself (and I didn't even mention how I sing to myself, wink at myself in the mirror, or write myself letters that I then pay 46 cents to take to the post office and send to mail to myself)? I write all of this because if I struggle with fatalism and general apathy toward life, my guess is that others do as well, and maybe you're in the same boat. If so, my encouragement to you is that you don't be like me, but be more like I hope I'm becoming. Each year, in fact, each day, is an opportunity to move your story forward--not by chance or fate, but by purposeful action on the part of the protagonist, which is you. You're not locked in to a prefabricated script.
Now, I should probably go get that bread. I'll really hear it from myself later on if I don't. And I can be a real jerk to me when I'm angry and without sandwiches.
Several weeks ago I had a conversation with an old friend from high school, and I have been reflecting on part of the discussion since then. We were at a mutual friend's wedding, and we spent some time catching up on each other's lives, since we hadn't seen each other in several years. After a while, my friend asked me, "Well David, what's your five-year plan?" I thought the question was an interesting one, and even though I hear the term "five year plan" thrown around quite a bit, no one had ever asked me what mine might be.
Of course, a five-year plan is the result of a person examining their goals and wants and visualizing what he or she would like life to be like five years in the future. Unfortunately for the conversation, I didn't have much of an answer to offer to the question. I haven't developed a five-year plan, and I never have. I normally operate under the principle of a five-minute plan, and I don't think ahead much farther than that. When I was unable to eloquently answer the question, my friend asked what I see for my future, and I said something about how I hope to finish school next year, and then I'll go somewhere and do something...and that's about all I know for now.
I felt that I was unfairly put on the spot by having to have mapped out my next five years while snacking on the candy bar at this wedding, so I asked my friend what her five-year plan. And, to my chagrin, she had it mapped out. She talked about how she plans to be married in five years, and how she wants to have a certain type of job and live in a certain type of place, and how she has all sorts of other goals that she hopes to achieve.
As my friend was talking about all these plans, the thought that passed through my head was: "It would be silly for me to plan out things like that. Those are all things I have no control over."
You probably think that such a thought is absurd. But it's truly the first thing that came to my mind. Why would I make plans to get married within five years? I have no control over that. Why would I have goals about my professional life? That's out of my hands. Why decide that I want to have achieved certain things when it's not up to me?
I'm a fatalist. A recovering fatalist, I hope. Or at the very least, I'm a fatalist who recognizes that he is a fatalist and identifies himself as such on the Internet for all to see, which is perhaps the first stage of recovery. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that my initial reaction in that conversation at the wedding, no matter how genuine, is flawed.
And this is why, quite frankly, some elements of my life are not where I would like them to be. I've abdicated my responsibility for living my own life and handed it all over to fate or luck or pure chance.
I moved to Ohio about a year and a half ago, and recently I was thinking about how I would characterize each six month period since then. To be honest, much of it hasn't been good. This isn't to mean that good things haven't happened. I've made some great friends, and I've had a lot of good times, and I've been to some Reds games. But I would say that in my first six months, I struggled mightily with loneliness, as I adjusted to living on my own in a city where I knew very few people. My second sixth months were characterized by high levels of busyness and stress as I juggled school, work, and ministry, and spent what seemed to be every night fighting off sleep while working at my desk in the middle of the night. And, after all of that, I see the last six months as the period in which I just stopped caring. I procrastinated more, allowed my apartment to become even more cluttered than usual, ate even more unhealthily than usual (which is saying something!), and spent more time laying on my couch than anything else.
A fatalist can get away with such behavior. If there is nothing you can do to improve your situation in life, why care at all? Chances are, the next six months won't be any better than the previous eighteen.
But why does that have to be the case? It doesn't, of course. And as a new year rolled around, I said to myself (probably out loud...I'm still adjusting to living alone, or maybe I'm just losing my mind), "You know David, this year doesn't have to be defined by something negative. It can be the year you move forward. It could be the year that you grow and develop more than any other year of your life. After all, you're probably the best-looking, most sharply dressed man living in this entire apartment. The story of this year hasn't been told yet, so there's no need to hang your head and act like the end credits are already rolling. So get out there and start making something happen. Oh, and don't forget to pick up a loaf of bread at Kroger today."
So why would I share all of this somewhat personal material here, as well as share how I talk to myself (and I didn't even mention how I sing to myself, wink at myself in the mirror, or write myself letters that I then pay 46 cents to take to the post office and send to mail to myself)? I write all of this because if I struggle with fatalism and general apathy toward life, my guess is that others do as well, and maybe you're in the same boat. If so, my encouragement to you is that you don't be like me, but be more like I hope I'm becoming. Each year, in fact, each day, is an opportunity to move your story forward--not by chance or fate, but by purposeful action on the part of the protagonist, which is you. You're not locked in to a prefabricated script.
Now, I should probably go get that bread. I'll really hear it from myself later on if I don't. And I can be a real jerk to me when I'm angry and without sandwiches.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Mobile
If I had to choose one word to describe my life over the past several months, it would be "mushy."
I've grown lethargic. Apathetic. Lazy. I've become intellectually mushy. Socially mushy. Physically mushy. And, to be honest, spiritually mushy. And maybe you've found yourself in such a situation at times as well. You don't feel sharp or disciplined. Your life is just feeling a little...blah, and it become increasingly harder to roll yourself out of bed in the morning or off of your couch in the evening.
This last week, I had the chance to join in something that I sorely needed. It's something that I used to do every week, and I now realize that I probably didn't value it near as much as I should have.
While visiting friends in Joplin, Missouri, I attended the chapel service at my alma mater of Ozark Christian College, and there I saw a lot of people who were passionate. As the worship band sang, I heard several hundred students singing. And as the sermon was preached, I saw these same students pull out their Bibles and follow along in the text. There was a sense of excitement in the room. It seemed like people wanted to be there, and they were stoked about what was happening in that place.
I also had a chance to chat with a friend who is soon moving to Japan to work with a church plant in an urban area there, and I was able to sense her passion. She's excited about where God is leading her in her life, and she's excited about what the God is doing in a nation where the gospel is not well-known, and she's passionate about the opportunities that exist for the church there.
Passion is the opposite of the mushiness that has been so prevalent in my own life, and it was re-energizing to be around such passionate people this week. I realized that I need to become passionate about something. I need something to be excited about. Because right now, the thing I look forward to the most each day is going back to bed at night. But I don't think that's the way we were meant to go through life.
So where does passion come from? As I sat in on that chapel service, I realized that it begins with God. He is at the center of it all, and the first step has to be to rekindle an excitement and passion for one's relationship with him.
In his book The Shack, William Paul Young compares God's proper place in a believer's life as the center of a mobile. Everything else revolves around him and only has meaning in their connection with him. I've always liked that imagery. Life finds its greatest meaning and value when God is smack dab in the middle of it. Everything else moves around him. So when one's passion for God is allowed to cool, other healthy passions tend to follow suit, and before you know it you're spending the evening wiping Cheeto crumbs off your chest while watching yet another sitcom rerun on TV.
I wasn't made to be mushy. I believe that God made us to be passionate people--people who are enraptured by him and stoked about living in this world in which he has placed us and which he has entrusted to us. I've written recently that I need something to get excited about. And that's still true. But this grows first and foremost out of a deep, even desperate relationship with God. Everything else branches from that.
Have you ever felt "mushy?" How do you recapture passion in your life when that happens?
I've grown lethargic. Apathetic. Lazy. I've become intellectually mushy. Socially mushy. Physically mushy. And, to be honest, spiritually mushy. And maybe you've found yourself in such a situation at times as well. You don't feel sharp or disciplined. Your life is just feeling a little...blah, and it become increasingly harder to roll yourself out of bed in the morning or off of your couch in the evening.
This last week, I had the chance to join in something that I sorely needed. It's something that I used to do every week, and I now realize that I probably didn't value it near as much as I should have.
While visiting friends in Joplin, Missouri, I attended the chapel service at my alma mater of Ozark Christian College, and there I saw a lot of people who were passionate. As the worship band sang, I heard several hundred students singing. And as the sermon was preached, I saw these same students pull out their Bibles and follow along in the text. There was a sense of excitement in the room. It seemed like people wanted to be there, and they were stoked about what was happening in that place.
I also had a chance to chat with a friend who is soon moving to Japan to work with a church plant in an urban area there, and I was able to sense her passion. She's excited about where God is leading her in her life, and she's excited about what the God is doing in a nation where the gospel is not well-known, and she's passionate about the opportunities that exist for the church there.
Passion is the opposite of the mushiness that has been so prevalent in my own life, and it was re-energizing to be around such passionate people this week. I realized that I need to become passionate about something. I need something to be excited about. Because right now, the thing I look forward to the most each day is going back to bed at night. But I don't think that's the way we were meant to go through life.
So where does passion come from? As I sat in on that chapel service, I realized that it begins with God. He is at the center of it all, and the first step has to be to rekindle an excitement and passion for one's relationship with him.
In his book The Shack, William Paul Young compares God's proper place in a believer's life as the center of a mobile. Everything else revolves around him and only has meaning in their connection with him. I've always liked that imagery. Life finds its greatest meaning and value when God is smack dab in the middle of it. Everything else moves around him. So when one's passion for God is allowed to cool, other healthy passions tend to follow suit, and before you know it you're spending the evening wiping Cheeto crumbs off your chest while watching yet another sitcom rerun on TV.
I wasn't made to be mushy. I believe that God made us to be passionate people--people who are enraptured by him and stoked about living in this world in which he has placed us and which he has entrusted to us. I've written recently that I need something to get excited about. And that's still true. But this grows first and foremost out of a deep, even desperate relationship with God. Everything else branches from that.
Have you ever felt "mushy?" How do you recapture passion in your life when that happens?
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Not Home Yet
Where do you call home?
As I'm writing this, I'm back where I used to call "home." I've taken a much-needed break from my responsibilities in Cincinnati in order to visit my family in Topeka, Kansas, where I grew up. It's been a great trip so far--I've gotten to eat some delicious cheeseburgers, I've gotten to meet my two new nephews, and this afternoon I enjoyed Sonic's Happy Hour for the first time in ages. Many would say that on this trip, I've gone back home, but as I think about it, I realize that I'm not really home.
Don't get me wrong. It's nice to be back in Topeka, and I've loved getting to spend time with my family. But this isn't my home anymore. I don't live here. I'm a guest. I'm sleeping in a room decorated with a cat-theme. I've this were my home, it wouldn't be decorated with cats. And again, I don't mean that since I've moved away from Topeka, I feel that I'm not part of this family or anything like that. But this house isn't my home anymore. I've moved on, and things here have moved on as well.
So where is my home? If not Topeka, it must be Cincinnati, right? That's where all my stuff is. That's where I pay my bills. That's where the CIA would come looking for me if they needed me for a top-secret mission. And yet, Cincinnati doesn't feel very "homey" to me either. It's a temporary residence, and I know that when I graduate from grad school next year, I'll likely be leaving it behind.
I'm in an awkward place in life, where there is no place that I can really call home.
All of this has reminded me of my favorite few verses of Hebrews 11. This is a famous chapter that outlines the lives of the Old Testament heroes who lived "by faith." The list includes the likes of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Moses. In the middle of this chapter, the author writes in verses 13-16:
The old adage states that "Home is where the heart is." I think that's true. But for these people, their hearts weren't in anything that the world could offer them. They had given their hearts to God, so their home was where God is. They lived with a continual restlessness, awaiting the city that God had prepared for them.
We weren't made for what the world as it exists now has to offer us. We were made for much more. And when we lose focus and forget that truth, and when we fix our thoughts and hearts on what the world can give me right now rather than how we can use our lives for the sake of God's kingdom, we're selling ourselves far short of the plans God has for us.
As I'm writing this, I'm back where I used to call "home." I've taken a much-needed break from my responsibilities in Cincinnati in order to visit my family in Topeka, Kansas, where I grew up. It's been a great trip so far--I've gotten to eat some delicious cheeseburgers, I've gotten to meet my two new nephews, and this afternoon I enjoyed Sonic's Happy Hour for the first time in ages. Many would say that on this trip, I've gone back home, but as I think about it, I realize that I'm not really home.
Don't get me wrong. It's nice to be back in Topeka, and I've loved getting to spend time with my family. But this isn't my home anymore. I don't live here. I'm a guest. I'm sleeping in a room decorated with a cat-theme. I've this were my home, it wouldn't be decorated with cats. And again, I don't mean that since I've moved away from Topeka, I feel that I'm not part of this family or anything like that. But this house isn't my home anymore. I've moved on, and things here have moved on as well.
So where is my home? If not Topeka, it must be Cincinnati, right? That's where all my stuff is. That's where I pay my bills. That's where the CIA would come looking for me if they needed me for a top-secret mission. And yet, Cincinnati doesn't feel very "homey" to me either. It's a temporary residence, and I know that when I graduate from grad school next year, I'll likely be leaving it behind.
I'm in an awkward place in life, where there is no place that I can really call home.
All of this has reminded me of my favorite few verses of Hebrews 11. This is a famous chapter that outlines the lives of the Old Testament heroes who lived "by faith." The list includes the likes of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, and Moses. In the middle of this chapter, the author writes in verses 13-16:
These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.The faithful life is one characterized by a desire to find a home. The Old Testament saints described in Hebrews 11 never felt settled in their life. They realized that they were journeyers. And while they had families and flocks and tents and houses, they were always looking forward to something much grander. They never felt quite at home.
The old adage states that "Home is where the heart is." I think that's true. But for these people, their hearts weren't in anything that the world could offer them. They had given their hearts to God, so their home was where God is. They lived with a continual restlessness, awaiting the city that God had prepared for them.
We weren't made for what the world as it exists now has to offer us. We were made for much more. And when we lose focus and forget that truth, and when we fix our thoughts and hearts on what the world can give me right now rather than how we can use our lives for the sake of God's kingdom, we're selling ourselves far short of the plans God has for us.
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