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.

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.

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:

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.

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!

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.

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.

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?