Liminality

A Narrative Experience

2012-01-30T08:51:00.000-05:00

Have you ever wondered about our fascination inmovies? Even with ticket prices wherethey are, we still flock to the cinemas to watch new releases and box officesgiants. But why? I’m sure there are number of reasons but Ithink it’s because of the “narrative experience.”

We get thrown into a world. We escape reality, escape space andtime. We become a player in themovie. We feel with the characters, wehurt and cry, sympathize and hate; we attach ourselves to the storyline knowingthe protagonist is going to make it, he’s going to save the day, get the girl, stopthe bomb, hit the homerun and escape death all the while never messing up hishair or getting seriously injured, yet we still get anxious when danger’slurking.

And it’s happening on more than a physical level; itbecomes something more, something from down deep.

That’s why people go to live performances andconcerts. For the human connection. The narrative experience. I’m still convinced one of the most authenticworship experiences of my life was at a Bon Jovi concert in Phillips Arena fiveyears ago. Bon Jovi said “Raise YourHands,” and we did. All 20,000 of us inunison! The whole three hours wasemotional and gripping, it moved us.

Even though we know we’re not actually in the movie orperformance or concert, we still have a role to play. We still accept or deny the energy of themoment. And when we engage it, it leavesimpressions on us that are hard to forget.

During seminary I went to the Fox Theatre and watched theBroadway play Rent. It’s mainly aboutraising awareness to the mistreatment of poor, homeless, aids-stricken outcast,and disenfranchised. And it follows thelife of a group of ho-hum friends. Someof them are poor, transvestites, homeless, and addicted to drugs. But as the story moves along, you stopjudging them for their outward nature and you start to see them for who theyreally are – you start to fall in love with their sense of humor, their quirkydecorating style, and their ability to express their inner anguish through themajesty of song. You realize you toohave inner anguish and are dissatisfied with life. You too feel alone in the universe and wishfor once someone would notice the veneer you carry.

In just two short hours, you’ve found yourself in theircharacter plot, and learned to weep when the characters weep, laugh when theylaugh and truly feel sorrow when one of them dies. It’s moving. It’s gripping.

Scripture has everything that live concerts, movies andshows have – there are characters, plot development, conflict and resolution –the only difference is our engagement. We read scripture as if we’ve alreadyheard it. We listen to scripture readbut we’re really thinking about lunch or our grocery list. We aren’t picturing, feeling and allowingscripture to grip us emotionally.

And I know this to be true because I’m guilty of ittoo. But what if we changed it?

It’s time that we start taking the biblical narrativeseriously. It’s time we let it wash overus, and it’s time we start finding ourselves in the story. Because the reality is the biblical text isalive and moving. Jesus is speaking to usfrom the Word of God. We must start identifyingwith characters in the story because the reality is we’re one of them.

Inside. Outside. Upside Down.

2012-01-22T21:49:00.000-05:00

Inside, Outside,Upside Down – it’s a classic written by the Berenstain family, better knownas the Berenstain Bears. Have you everread it? You need to. It’s glorious. It’s about a little cub who gets inside adelivery box without knowing it was about to get shipped across town when allof a sudden a delivery man seals it, flips it over and takes it on a three hourride. I love this book.

Although . . . I’m not sure why. The book is a little shady. A six year old cub, at best, climbs in a box,gets shipped in the back of a truck and wanders through life for at least threehours before the mother even realizes he’s gone missing. It’s terrible parenting, poor sense ofjudgment on the cub’s part, and ridiculous that a delivery man would not even noticethere’s a living creature inside the box he’s totting around.

But despite these apparent flaws, the book does have acertain appeal. Its majesty comes withits fictional depiction of life. No onewould ever willingly do something as foolish as this cub. No one would leave everything, the comfort ofhome, the value of safety, just to seek after uncertainty.

That’s why we like books like this . . . because itsfantasy. It would never really happen.Not to us. Not to people as brainy andfootsy as us. We’re too smart. It’s a cute story of a cub that goes on anadventure and finds his way home. Heexperiences what it’s like to be inside, outside and upside down. We get that. We like that. We know this isfiction. We know its fantasy. Nothing more. Kids love it. We love it. Because it could never happen to us. It’s fiction. It’sfantasy. It’s foolish. Until you apply it to Mark 1.14-20.

When I read this passage, I immediately think of the symmetrybetween Jesus and Inside, Outside, UpsideDown.

Think about it. Jesus works inside the realm of Jewish prophecy and law. He goes to his Jewish brothers and sisters topreach and teach. He walks the beachesof his own territory, his own country. He works from the inside. He also invites others inside. He takes the marginal fishermen, the outcast,uneducated, unsophisticated, noisy, obnoxious, disenfranchised brothers from thesea. What was Jesus thinking?

And he’s doing the same for us today. Jesus calls us to go inside the same journey,the same discipleship, the same way of life he invites for Andrew and Simon,John and James.

We were once on the outside on the margins, uneducated,unsophisticated, obnoxious, and unwanted until Jesus came. Until he showed us grace. Until we met face to face with the divine andsaw what unconditional love really is. That’s all of our testimonies. Weall were lost but now we’re found. We allwere blind but now we see. We all wanderedalone, afraid, and with no place to go, until we saw the face of Jesus. Until we came inside the walls of thechurch. Until we opened the door to ourcrooked, wicked, and corrupt heart and let Jesus in as our Lord andSavior. That’s the road to salvation.That’s the road to forgiveness. That’s the road to discipleship. And the road begins with us walking inside.

Jesus is inviting all of us inside. Inside his arms, inside his heart, his group,his community. Jesus’ love is big enoughfor all people, everywhere. We’re all invited to partake in Jesus’ministry, to walk inside, learn from him, and see him ever so mysteriously,heal the world.

But sometimes when we go inside and sit in the synagogueof life, we get a little too comfortable. We forget the two part message of Jesus saying, “Repent and then follow.” We forget that after we are invited inside tolearn, we must then go outside.

Research shows that normal church goers, those who cometwice a month on average, become too complacent. They stagnate. And I think you know what I mean. When we surround ourselves with a Christiancommunity, and that Christian community becomes our only source of identity,then we’ve become too comfortable with being inside.

If the church is ever going to be a viable option for thefuture, for our kids, for the postmodern generation, then we are going to haveto step from the inside – outside. Peopleare going to have to know we exist, not because the stumble inside, but becausewe meet them out there and invite them to come inside.

And that’s the mystery of following Jesus. James and John had to leave their parents,leave their careers, leave everything to follow this nomadic, charismatic,teacher. Simon and Andrew did thesame. They didn’t pack, they didn’t telltheir parents bye – they just left. Becoming a follower of Jesus, at times, demands us to move outside.

Do you think it was uncomfortable for James and John andSimon and Andrew to leave it all behind? You bet. Moving from inside tooutside is dangerous, confusing, uncomfortable, and mysterious.

But it’s also holy, majestic, and divine.

We have to be willing to go inside to meet Jesus, moveoutside to show others Jesus, because in doing so, the world turns upsidedown.

Jesus turns the world upside down. This means we must be willing to change (ifneed be). Change the way we act. Changethe way we worship. Change the way we dochurch, do life, and do community. Change our biases. Change our relationships and even change ourtheology.

It’s not enough to sit and let the world us pass by. Jesus is calling us inside to commune,pushing us outside to minister, and in the meantime turning our worlds upsidedown – because for Christ’s sake, we need it.

This is the message of Mark 1 and it’s still alive in ustoday. We have to be a people who arewilling to follow the formula of discipleship: We must go inside, outside, upside down.

It’s unfortunate though that the Berentstain Bear’sweren’t around for Simon, Andrew, James and John; because they didn’t realizethat this formula of discipleship (Inside, Outside, Upside Down) is justmake-believe. They didn’t realize thisjourney is just fantasy. They could havestayed in the luxury of their own homes, their own towns, or their own familiartheology. They didn’t have to risk itall, try on something new, or jeopardize their 401k. They didn’t have to leave the familybusiness. They didn’t have to turneverything upside down. They didn’t haveto.

They just didn’t know what we “know.” They didn’t realize that Mark 1 reads like a children’sbook. It isn’t serious when it invitesus inside a world that can change everything. It isn’t serious when it says Jesus invites us into a world where allpeople are created equal: Equally loved,equally cared for, and equally made in the image of the divine. It isn’t serious when it says Jesus wants usto move outside the walls of our understanding, outside the walls of our church,and outside the walls of our comfort level. It isn’t serious. Sure there’s adying world that needs healing. There’sa blind community that needs seeing. There’s lame people that still has life to walk. But we can’t bring them that. That would be turning the world upside down.

We’re comfortable. We’re complacent. We know whoreally belongs inside and who should be left outside. It’s not our job to invite them in. It’s probably better if we don’t have a lotof sick, blind, and crippled people in here anyway.

We know the formula of Inside, Outside, Upside down isjust for kids. It’s fantasy. It’s foolish. Jesus wasn’t serious when he said the kingdom will turn everythingupside down. And we shouldn’t thinkthose things anyway. The status quo isbetter. The familiar is nicer. Doing things the way we’ve always done them forthe sake of doing them the way they’ve always been done is best.

I’m glad we don’t read Mark 1 with a sense of mysteryanymore. If we did – we may not like howmuch we’d have to change to move from the inside to the outside. Or better yet,we may realize we weren’t ever on the inside to begin with.

Inside, Outside,Upside Down. Itreally is foolish.

Rohr vs. Campolo

2012-01-16T17:04:00.000-05:00

Last week I had the pleasure of hearing to two of myfavorite theologians. One’s aspiritualist and the other’s a social activist. They couldn’t be more different.

I went to hear on Thursday Fr. Richard Rohr at St. Philips EpiscopalCathedral. He’s a Franciscan priest. He spoke about living contemplatively. On Saturday I went to First PresbyterianChurch Atlanta to spend the day with Tony Campolo, a social activists andtheologian from Eastern University in Philadelphia.

I love both these guys. But they couldn’t be more different.

Here’s what I gathered from their lectures (I realize these nextstatements are polarizing and generalizations and do not represent the entiretheology of either theologian but they do create enough of a dichotomy to meritthis blog post):

Rohr cares deeply about thespiritual sector. Campolo cares deeply about thesocial sector.

Rohr thinks if the world would openitself to the spiritual (to awaken her mind and heart to higher forms of peace) then wars would end. Campolo thinks wars would end when we overcome evil by sending troops home, adopting children for$38/month through Compassion International, buying mosquito nets for families suffering from malaria or building Habitat for Humanityhouses for the homeless.

Rohr desires stillness. Campolo desires a fury of activism. Rohr wants prayer, Campolo wants change. Rohrpreaches that strength rises when we wait upon the Lord. Campolo preaches that strength rises whennumbers stand up for justice and social reform.

They both want wholeness. But Rohr finds it in contemplation; Campolofinds it in action.

Rohr needs God to come in the quiet, still,dark night of the soul. Campolo needsGod out on the front lines, offering food to the hungry and clothes to thenaked. Rohr meets Jesus in the garden;Campolo meets Jesus in turning over tables in the Temple. Rohr’s Jesus invitesharmony. Campolo’s Jesus invokes socialreform. Rohr wants unity. Campolo wants gospel catalysts.

So is one better than the other? Should we be more like Rohr or Campolo? Should we care more about action orcontemplation? Prayer or petition? Stillness or justice?

And this is what I love about scripture . . . theseseemingly different approaches; different perspectives, different attempts atreaching and connecting with the divine . . . are both valid. These two ways of being aren't an either/or they’rea both/and.

We need to be a people who listen for Spirit of the livingGod as well as people who stand up for peace, justice and righteousness. We need to do both. We must care about both. The world needs usdoing both.

This can’t be understated. God’s love is on the move; it’s present in our waiting and in ourdoing. God’s love is calling for us torespond, to give, to enjoy, to participate, to sit down together, to livewithin, to embrace, to follow and to dwell. It’s callingus out of our darkness, out of our slumber, out of our small-mindedness, squabbles,frustration and deep sadness. And whenwe seek this divine love, through both action and contemplation, we hear Jesus sayingwhat he said to Nathanael in John 1:51, "Then follow me, for there areeven greater things ahead.”

My prayer is that the church will become (or continue to be) a place that truly believes there are greater things ahead; and we find them through action and contemplation.

Epiphanies Must be Followed

2012-01-11T16:36:00.001-05:00

The Magi all hadan epiphany and followed it. But what Ifind to be peculiar about Matthew 2 is the “why” in which the Magi followed it.

They travel fromafar walking across the Jordanian desert. This would take weeks. Theycaravanned after viewing a star in the sky? What kind of epiphany would it take in your gut to convince your family,your country, or your temple guards that you needed to make a pilgrimage westto see a baby being born, give him the most expensive gift we have to give,travel alone and all you are basing this gut feeling on is the formation of thestars. And if that isn’t wild enough, youmeet at least two others with the exact same story on your journey.

From a logicalstandpoint, the odds of this really happening are slim. But this story brings with it something muchdeeper than logic. This story carriesthe majesty of an appointed epiphany.

Webster definesEpiphany as a “Sudden Realization.” TheMagi suddenly realize the interplay of God in the world. Herod upsettingly realizes his life as theJewish King is going to be short lived; Mary and Joseph realize their encounterwith the angel is more than just a woman bearing a child. The presence of the Magi validatesJesus’ divinity. It solidifies themajesty found in a baby. And even thereaders of Matthew suddenly realize that the future of the world is foreverchanged.

Matthew is invariablysaying with this story of the Magi, “Jesus is more than just king of the Jews. Jesus is king over all people. All races. All tribes. All kingdoms. Jesus is Lord of All.”

This story of theMagi is just a blip in the greater narrative of Jesus’ life. But without it, we would be deprived ofseeing divinity intersecting with humanity. We would lose out on the majesty that comes with the birth of oursavior. We would lose out on thevalidation that God is making things happen in the world. We would miss the complexities that come withJesus being the Lord and Savior to all people – not just to the Jews. We would miss Jesus’ divine spark over all oflife.

This past week wecelebrated the sudden realization that because of the birth of Jesus,everything changes. Life changes. God changes. Love changes. Law changes. And our salvific narrative changes.

And all of thishappened because three men from a far off place listened to an inner voicesaying that something important is happening right now. Something mysterious is taking place.Something holy is occurring. Theirpresence is needed. They must go. And if they do, they too will be changedforever.

Just like to theMagi, God speaks to us. I am a firmbeliever that God speaks constantly into our world and we just have to slow ourlives down enough to hear God’s voice. Andit can even come on a starry night.

Never put a capon how God chooses to communicate. Neverthink God only speaks in one way. It’sup to our own spirituality to choose to listen to whatever avenue is best forus to hear God’s voice.

But what I knowis this, God’s voice is calling, stars are still shining, we just have to beintentional about listening and looking. In 2012, we’re going to have to be willing to take a chance on a gutfeeling. Because epiphaniesdon’t mean much if you don’t follow them.

In 2012, my prayer is we will follow our gut. We willchoose a life that listens and moves by the voice of God. We will be so bold to allow God to shape,change and move us. We will not besatisfied with our current relationship with Christ but will choose to move andbe with the Spirit. We will embrace thepresence of Christ and allow the epiphanies to guide us. It may not seem logical, but it will beholy.

For epiphanies don’t mean anything if we don’t followthem.

The Bird of Dawning Singeth All Night Long

2011-12-28T10:24:00.000-05:00

This Christmas I was moved by the words of FrederickBuechner. For my last blog of the year Ioffer to you his wisdom rather than my own ramblings. I hope it does for you what it continues todo for me.

Frederick Buechner says in his book The Faces of Jesus:

On the dark bulwark of Elsinore, Shakespeare has Marcellusand Haratio reflecting on Christ in the opening scene of Hamlet:

Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes

Wherein our Savior’s birth is celebrated,

The bird of dawning singeth all night long;

And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,

The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,

No fairly takes, nor witch hath power to charm,

So hallowed and so gracious is the time

These lines from the first scene of Hamlet in a sense sayit all.

We tend to think time is just progression . . . asmoment following moment, day following day, in relentless flow, the kind oftime a clock or calendar measures.

But we experience time also as depth . . . as havingquality as well as quantity – a good time, a dangerous time, an auspicioustime, a time we mark not by its duration but by its content.

On the dark bulwark of Elsinore, Marcellus speaks to hiscompanions of the time of Jesus’ birth. He says it’s “a hallowed time,” a holy time, a time in which life growsstill . . . like the surface of a river so that we can look down into it andsee a glimmering reflection in its depth . . . and when looked closely, we seesomething timeless, precious, other.

Christmas Eve is a hallowed time . . . And a gracioustime, Marcellus says—a time that we cannot bring about as we can bring about a happytime or a sad time but time that comes upon us as grace, as a free and unbiddengift.

Marcellus explains that Christmas is a time of suchholiness that the cock crows the whole night through as though it isperpetually dawn, and thus for once, even the powers of darkness are powerlesswhen,

The bird of dawning singeth all night long.

Haratio’s answer, in Hamlet, is equally instructive. “So have I heard and do in part believe,” hesays to Marcellus, speaking, one feels, not just for himself but forShakespeare and for all of us. In part,we believe it.

We believe the tidings are true. We believe the songs are sung . . . for goodreason. We believe at ChristmastimeGod’s gracious gifts are given. Webelieve in the majesty of the miracle. We believe Christmas is about Christ.

We believe his birth is a breaking-in of God’sKingdom. We believe that history maycreate heroes . . . but holiness, my friends, holiness happens.

At Christmas time it is hard even for the unbeliever notto believe in something, if not in everything. Peace on earth, good will to men; a dream of innocence that is good tohold onto even if it is only a dream; the mystery of being a child; thepossibility of hope—not even the canned carols piped out over the shopping centerparking plaza from Thanksgiving on can drown our core beliefs outentirely.

For a moment of two, the darkness of disenchantment,cynicism, doubt, draw back, and all the usual worldly witcheries lose somethingof their power to charm. Maybe we cannotmanage to believe that Christmas story with all our hearts. But as long as this hallowed and gracious momentlasts, we can at least believe that it is of all things the one most worthbelieving.

And that may not be as far as it sounds from what beliefreally is. For as long as this momentlasts, that hallowed, gracious time is very real.

Which Story to Tell?

2011-12-19T11:53:00.000-05:00

I once had aprofessor ask during class presentations, “What story gets repeated over andover by the collective conscious of our country? When families or communities gather to tellstories . . . which one always gets told?”

We spent severalminutes tossing out ideas. We thoughtmaybe the American dream . . . people pulling themselves up by their bootstraps. . . is a retold narrative. But thatdoesn’t really work. Maybe the Pledge ofAllegiance? Everyone knows it but it’snot really a narrative. Perhaps Santa Clausis a consistent narrative . . . but not even it bears the weight of ourpoly-cultural world. Finally, we though BillyGraham . . . our world can stand and tell a story of how they were sinful andthen set right, how they walked the aisle, how they joined the church. But then we quickly remembered that noteveryone in America is Christian and the youth today unfortunately don’t knowwho Billy Graham is. So we concludedthere must not a single, unifying story that connects our country, our culture,and our world.

I left class sadto think that oral traditions, the story-telling generations, the collectiveconsciousness of people are dying . . . andthat’s when it hit me . . . “Our story should start like this. . .”

“Before time, creation, or even matter . . . beforeGenesis or the Big Bang . . . Before miracles, Santa, or even room for doubt .. . before Abraham, Isaac or Jacob . . . before planets, air, or Eve . . . Jesussays, “I am.”

FrederickBuechner argues,

Before Abraham was – before any king rose up in Israel or any prophetbedevil him, before any patriarch or priest; temple or Torah – something ofJesus existed no less truly for having no name yet . . . or face, somethingholy and hidden, something explicit as sound or as implicit as silence; beforethe first atom was sent spinning through space at the creation . . . Jesussays, “I am.”

Who can really say what Jesus meant by this? Perhaps that just as his death was not theend of him, so his birth was not the beginning of him. Whatever it is that history has come to seein him over the centuries, seen or unseen, it was there, from the start ofhistory, he seems to be saying, and even before the start.

Jesus does not say that before Abraham was, he was, but before Abrahamwas, he is. No past, no future, but onlythe present, because only the present is real. Named or unnamed, known or unknown, there neither has been nor ever bereal time without him. If he is theSavior of the world as his followers believe, there never has been nor ever will bea world without salvation.

What a differenceit would make if our collective conscious started talking about the mystery andmajesty of Jesus! What a difference itwould make to our community, country and world if we took seriously the mysterybetween Jesus’ birth narrative in Luke 1 and the fact that in the beginning Jesuswas with God (John 1). We should take itseriously because our poly-cultural, postmodern world is looking for meaning andsomething to follow. I believe we haveit in Jesus – we just have to start telling it with more frequency.

The Danger of Mixing Santa and Jesus at Christmas

2011-12-12T10:35:00.000-05:00

My wife and I went looking at Christmas lights lastChristmas. We saw the usual carolers, snowmen, nutcrackers, reindeers, sleighsand so forth. At one particular house, we saw two things I'll never forget.

The first was abirthday cake covered in white lights. Green lettering spelled out "HappyBirthday Jesus."

The theologian inme cringed for fear of the message being sent with this cake, but all in all Ithought it was a cute gesture.

Jesus did have abirthday, and whether it was during the winter solstice is probably irrelevant.I still hesitate, though, representing Jesus' birth so casually.

What got me morethan the birthday cake – what set me off as a theologian and still more as aChristian – was that standing beside the cake was a white baby Jesus lying in amanger with St. Nick overlooking him.

The image wasirresponsible, unbiblical and an unfortunate step backward for all the churchestrying to separate the enmeshed imagery of Santa and the elves with God and theheavenly hosts.

This imagebroadcasts (whether intended or not) that Santa is somehow equivalent to God.

Together, God andSt. Nick overlook the baby in swaddling clothes and declare that the birth ofJesus is profoundly "good."

I understand theopposing view: that Santa is not overlooking the baby as a co-creator butrather as someone showing reverence. All people, even Santa and other fictionalcharacters, bow before baby Jesus.

The biggestproblem here (for either interpretation) is that one part of this image ismake-believe and the other part is very real. Mixing these images for childrenis dangerous and borderline unethical.

Christians mustbe more careful. Christianity must be more deliberate.

What message arewe sending the world when we advertise Santa's picture next to baby Jesus? Isthis the message you want your children getting in Sunday school? Is this themessage you want from your pastor on Christmas Eve?

Christmas issupposed to be about the moment when Jesus breaks into a world of sin, doubt,hurt and guilt to declare with his presence that God is and forever will beamong us.

What Christmas isnot about is Santa Claus bringing gifts to good little boys and girls – and itis most definitely not a mixture of the two.

The Christmasstory must be about the incarnation of Jesus – not Santa. This story must begood enough for the church to tell society on its own instead of clouding itwith unhelpful, make-believe imagery.

The Christmasstory has the power to change lives. It tells people that heaven is breaking into earth and isn't leaving. It says the inauguration of God's kingdom is athand, and our lives, through the face of Jesus, are being redeemed.

The biblicalChristmas message is powerful – especially in an age of world poverty,ecological degradation, human depression and war.

If Christianitywants to continue being a viable option for people, then churches need to getSanta out of the Nativity and start talking about how the birth of Jesus offershope in an age of hunger.

Peace Finds Us

2011-12-06T09:49:00.001-05:00

Human perception embraces ideas aboutreality. People see a water bottle and then construct a reality about theessence of what the water bottle should be. The problem, however, is thatpeople’s perception is not always correct.

But it’s not necessarily our fault. We collect our data, analyze it and perceivethe best possible conclusions on life, faith, love and reality only to find we didn't have enough data. There’s more tothe story we didn't know. And that’swhere conflict arises – when we find out we don’t have enough data.

That’s probably what Mary and Joseph thought when theywent to Jerusalem on a donkey. They wenton faith they’d have a place to sleep. They went on faith they’d be taken care of. But there wasn’t a place to stay. They weren’t taken care of. They had to leave town. They fought hard to get to Bethlehem and findan Inn Keeper still awake. But the only place they could find was a stinkybarn. You can only imagine theirdisappointment. They’re upset becausethey didn’t have enough data. If theywould have known they could have made plans, called ahead, set something upwith friends.

Or how about the wise men when they set out to travelwest to see the King of Kings? They hadto be upset to see this baby born king lying in a feeding trough – this is nothow you treat your king. They were upsetbecause they didn’t have enough data.

And we know Herod is spitting mad when he tries to killthis newborn but finds out he and his family slipped away to Egypt. I mean he told the wise men to come backthrough Jerusalem and to let him know the scoop, but scripture says the wisemen went home another way. Herod becomesupset because he didn’t collect enough data.

In all cases – Mary and Joseph, the wise men, and Herodwere all looking for peace. Mary andJoseph needed a comfortable place to give birth after a tough trimester. TheWise Men needed to fill a void in their lives that had them searching for truthand meaning (so they set out on a pilgrimage to do just that). Herod wantedto maintain his self-proclaimed ‘king of the Jews’ status so he conspires tomurder Jesus. All three want peace intheir own way. All three perceive theiridea of peace to be the ultimate reality. But this peace eludes them when they realize they don’t have enoughdata.

And so the question remains – "What do we do when werealize we’ve misperceived reality?"

I fear we too often get angry, retreat inward, become self-destructive or forsake anything that used to be considered truth. My sincere hope, though, is we (instead ofgetting angry) continually ask questions, search, hope against hope and researchthat which we think we know.

Because peace doesn’t come in thinking we have it allfigured out; eventually we’ll find out we don’t. Peace comes when we admit we see through aglass darkly, yet choose to keep journeying. For true peace is not found in the finding,it finds us amidst the searching.

A Glimmer of Hope

2011-11-28T17:57:00.001-05:00

One year ago this week I was called to be pastor of National Heights Baptist Church. One yearago this week was my first sermon and service with them. And guess what . . . I have no clue what Italked about or said. I don’t even haveit saved.

But don’t laugh tooquickly! Do you remember what you did ayear ago this week? Unless it was atraumatic experience the answer is probably like mine . . . a little hazy. How about three years ago? Five years ago? What made you happy, anxious, or confidentthis week in those years? What did youdream about or wish so desperately for yourself and for others? What did you love and cherish? How did you embrace romance or seekintimacy? What were your hopes andfears? For most of us, what preoccupiedour minds then, are a faint fuzz in our conscious memory.

Events that shackled us to the newsreel seemlike flashes from the past. Someonce-current edition of some magazine somewhere on some day captured ourattention . . . but not anymore. Wecan’t quote headlines, storylines, recall movies, or replay unforgettablememories. We may not even associate withthe same people as we did back then.

And when you start going down this rabbit hole of lostmemory you start to realize how fleeting your existence really is, how likewater you can’t even it hold in your hands.

Recognizing this can fill us with sadness . . . we beginto see Jesus’ words in Mark 13 as complete truth:

‘But in those days, after that suffering, the sun will bedarkened, and the moon will not give its light, andthe stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavenswill be shaken and earth will be destroyed. (Mark 13.24-25)

This language just reminds us that something is dying(around us, in us, beside us) all the time. The world is ending, our lives are fading, and the darkness is capturingthe light.

So we conclude that maybe we should just never expectmuch. Why would we? We’re just going to die anyway. We’d be better to forget that newpossibilities are waiting for us around the corner. The only real thing around thecorner is darkness, disappointment and death. The darkness that can shake heaven and destroys earth. The disappointment that reminds us we aren’t worthy to be loved, and the death that takes ourloved ones or pushes us into a further illness.

It’s just better if we hope for nothing . . . because itkeeps us from feeling frustrated when we realize we foolishly hoped forsomething we thought we could almost have and never dreamed we couldn't.

But Henri Nouwen couldn't disagree more. He says, “But while presidents and popes comeand go, while wars explode and come to an end, while some lose their jobs andothers later have their talents recognized, while children grow up sickly andlater become sports heroes, while all this and more transpire, something is beingformed that neither death nor illness can destroy.”[1]

For those who have eyes to see and ears to hear, much inour fleeting world and lives is not passing away . . . but lasting! We’re not dying but rather coming to life . .. not temporarily – eternally! Amid the fragility of our lives, we havewonderful reasons to hope.

Keep reading Mark 13 – it’s not gloomy – it’suplifting. After the darkness this iswhat happens: "The Son of Man coming in clouds” with great power and glory. Then he will send out the angels, ridingthe four winds [from the four corners] and we will see a glimpse of heaven." (Mark 13.26-27)

Some call this hidden reality “grace” or “Armageddon” whileothers call it “the kingdom of God” or better yet, “Advent.” Whatever you call it, once you focus your eyes on the precious center you start to realize that all the torrents oftime and circumstance that roll over it serve only to polish it into aprecious, imperishable gift. (Nouwen)

That’s the enormous revolution - that in this fleeting worldJesus comes to plant the seed of eternal life. It’s amid the temporal we see the eternal. It’s amid the mundane we embrace thesacred.

We must be a people who become aware of this mysteriouspresence in our lives -- especially this Advent. We must be a people who begin to sense a hope while others nursecomplaints; we must be a people who experience peace while the air around usseems pervaded by hatred. (Nouwen)

We must hold on to a glimmer of hope that in the midst ofthe crazy, in the midst of the mundane, in the midst of the illness – God isworking and redeeming and making all things new! This the story of Jesus. This the message of Advent. We pray to God, “Come, Lord Jesus!” and Godsends Emmanuel – which means “God with us.” We want Jesus and God gives us Jesus. We want protection and love and God gives us Jesus. We want to feel beloved so God gives usJesus.

Hold on to this hope. It's enough to change your life.

[1]Taken and adapted from Henri Nouwen, “Turn your Mourning into dancing” page 45.

Our Invitation to Worship

2011-11-15T23:51:00.001-05:00

I conducted a wedding a while back for some friends. I arrive one hour before the wedding. The wedding party beats me by about twentyminutes and the bride is no longer speaking to her mother. It’s a long story and I don’t think I reallyknow all of it, but what I do know is that when I walked through the door Ihave one of the saddest conversations of my life.

The mother of the bride meets me and says, “May I talk toyou in private?”

I take her by the hand and sit her down. I look at her intently and ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t go through with this, Barrett. I can’t be here. I’m not upset with my daughter or at anyoneelse. I’m upset with me. Here I stand at my only daughter’s weddingand I’m with a man I met a month ago. Her father hates me and I don’t look good in this dress. I’m uncomfortable. I’m out of place. I just want to go home.” And with tears in her eyes she cries, “I don’t want towalk down the aisle as if I deserve to be honored.”

And honestly, I get it. I know what’s it’s like to feel like you don’t belong. To feel as ifyour presence is unmerited or as if everyone around you knows what kind ofperson you are. It’s terrifying. This mother was completely and utterly broken. She couldn’t be at the party, because she didn’t feel she belonged.

I imagine this is how the Israelites felt when singing Psalm 24. They'd sing it as they walked up the Temple mount on their way toworship. And in one of the openinglines they sing, “Who shall ascend this hill of the LORD? Who shall stand in his holy place?” In other words, I imagine the Israelites feel quite guilty, for they are about to parade down the aisleof the Temple as if they deserve to be there. Yet everyone knows they don’t. Whenyou think of Psalm 24 this way, it makes worship kind of awkward.

And come to think of it, these rhetoricalquestions make worship awkward for me too. Who am I to deserve to go before our God? What have I done to receive such anhonor? Who am I to stand before congregationsas God’s spokesperson? If I’m truthfulI’d admit that I don’t belong. My sins,shortcomings, and inadequacies are too many and too great to merit a real worshipfulexperience.

And to make matters worse, Psalm 24, in the very nextline reminds me who makes the final cut to enter the temple. It says, “Those who have clean hands and purehearts, who do not lift up their souls to what is false, and do not sweardeceitfully. They can enter the presenceof God.”

Well that puts me out. I can’t name a day where I had truly clean hands or a pure heart.

And I don’t think you can either.

Yet here we sit. We’rein the sanctuary and it’s awkward. We’re worshipping God, but we fail thelitmus test. We aren’t righteous. We aren’t pure. We’re sinners. We’re marching down the aisle, but we haven’tbeen good enough people. Good enoughparents. Good enough Christians. This makes worship awkward.

This week in the news a Southern Baptist pastor wascharged for a sexual misconduct crime. He had hidden cameras stashed around particular women’s homes. It’s terrible when you think about it. But the truth is his outward expressions ofsin are no worse than our delusional manifestations of our own piety orrighteousness. Maybe he’s the lucky onefor everyone now knows he doesn’t deserve to worship God. He doesn't deserve to walk down the aisle orbe celebrated anymore for pastoring. He’s lucky because he’s free from having to carry the burden ofpretending to be pious or righteous. Hecan now be the dark, wounded soul he’s always been—the unkempt and uncouth guy whodoesn’t deserve to worship God in the temple.

We’re the unlucky ones because we have to go on living asif life is a fairy tale knowing we too are all sinful, broken people living ina dark world hoping to find a light to illuminate our path. We read Psalm 24 as if it’s a celebration; butin reality, it just a reminder of how unkempt and uncouth our worship reallyis. We’re in this holy space, we’resitting before God, yet it’s awkward; for we don’t belong here.

Yet there’s good news.

The good news is we’re not reading a Psalm that demandsour lives to be perfect and our worship to be pure. Psalm 24 isn’t sung by awesome, holy people. The Israelites are just as flawed, just ashuman as we are. They don’t all haveclean hands or a pure heart. Yet they getinvited to worship anyway.

Psalm 24:6 says, “But such is the company of those whoseek him, who seek the face of the God of Jacob.”

That’s the answer. God wants people who seek after him.

God’s not looking for us to be pious or proud – to weighour lives based on the moments of righteousness against the moments ofunrighteousness. God’s looking for us tobe on a journey; to seek after him -- toworship knowing we are broken, sinful people who need God’s light to illuminateour dark world.

This is the good news. This is our invitation to worship (as well as for the mother of the bride, the former pastor and everyone else in the world).

Retool. Refocus. Rethink.

2011-09-17T23:11:00.003-04:00

I’ve been pastoring traditional, Baptist churches for four years. I’ve worked in them for six. In these years I’ve heard the cries of God’speople. I’ve listened to their stories. And a lot of these stories are similar – eventhough the geography isn’t. It’s as ifthe southern United States carries with it (in traditional, white, Baptistcircles) a collective consciousness. Inother words, there appears to be a single, unifying thought in which everyone nodsin agreement with. And to be honest . .. I’m bothered by it. This unifyingthought is, “We think we’re dying, and we don’t have much more to offer God.”

This is the saddest picture I could imagine for a church,but it’s not the first time God’s people felt this way. Have you ever read Isaiah? These fifth century Judeans return home from exile. . . back to their homeland . . . back to where they used to worship . . . butit’s to a city that’s utterly destroyed.

Babylon burned everything decades ago. Sacred spaces lie inruins. The crops withered. The Temple reduced to gravel. Everything is but a shadow of what it used tobe.

And the one’s left to rebuild all of this aren’t even theones who saw it destroyed. They wereborn into this mess. The ones who knewof Judah’s former glory were either killed in battle or died in exile.

Judah’s considerably smaller, poorer . . .more in debt . . . suffering from plagues, famines, disease, despair, cropfailures, old age yet left to rebuild a burned down city wasting all theirenergy and time for what appears to be for no reason. Whatever joy there may have been in theanticipation of returning has now disappeared. It’s a sad story really. If you readthe later chapters of Isaiah you even begin to hear the Judean’s collectiveconsciousness, “We’re dying. And we don’thave much more to offer God.”

We are eerily similar to these post-exiled Judeans.

We look at the work it’s going to take to rebuild our churchesto their former glory and we’re met with anguish, difficult times, andfrustration. We look at the work it’sgoing to take to become a necessary influence on the community and we drown indespair.

So we just tell stories . . . but these stories are of how itused to not be this way. We retreat inward knowing it’s too painful to think about what we’re not. We just relive the memories of what we usedto be. And, honestly, we find ourselvesasking, “What’s the point? Why should weeven bother?”

We should “bother” because the Spirit of the Lord is uponus . . . bearing God’s message.

God’s Church isn’t dying. We’re on the cusp of thriving. AsEugene Lowry says, “We’re dancing the edge of mystery.” So it’s for this reason we must gather together. Rethink who we are. Retool what we have. And Rethink who we can be. We must change our collectiveconsciousness.

The future for the Church lies in the hearts and souls ofeach of us. As long as we are a peoplewho care passionately about social justice, who offer peace instead of war, whogive hope to a future that needs it, who educate, who practice authentic spirituality,and who offer prayers for the brokenhearted then the church is foreverneeded.

We can escape our own turmoil in our own exile . . . wecan realize we aren’t dying; we just have to startlistening to voice of the living God in each of us!

The Best is Always Yet to Come

2011-09-06T15:25:00.002-04:00

Six months ago I vowed to honor, to love, and to do life untildeath with my best friend. Looking back, I can honestly say I didn’t know all the subcategoriesthat go unmentioned when making these vows.

These subcategories include juggling class loads together, crunchingout research papers, embracing job changes, working seventy hour weeks, facilitatingchurch functions, going shopping for the sake of spending time together,anticipating each other’s needs, coordinating wedding plans, taking mini vacations,laboring through Clinical Pastoral Education, traveling for work, preparinglesson plans, and saying goodbye to old friends.

More subcategories include battling illnesses, ulcers andthe strep throats. Fightingover who makes the bed, folds the laundry, or takes out the trash. In reality, we’ve vowed to laugh over howmuch I don’t know about cooking (and maybe life in general). We’ve vowed to play countless games ofSequence and Banana-grams.

We’ve vowedto honor each other even when the situations don’t call for it and to remainemotionally available – even when it’s hard. We’ve vowed to battle for personal, alone time. We’ve vowed to go on runs together even at apace slower than I’d like. We’ve vowedto talk about doing more with friends – even when we can’t seem to find thetime. We’ve vowed to cry together, playNintendo Wii, and laugh at each other hoola-hooping. In reality, we’ve vowed to learn that stealingthe covers and waking the other up every single night is equally as rude aswatching SportsCenter while the other is sleeping.

And these vows help us find a rhythm. We now eat dinner and talk about our day as well as learn how the other needs to beheard. And through all of this, we learn that thevalue and intensity of the vows made six months ago run far deeper than justheavy-handed words.

Making these vows was easy – living these vows out todaycarries much more weight. But despitethe hidden anecdotes – I’d make them over and over again!

I don’t make these vows because life is currently easy orlove is saturating. I don’t make them because visions of sugarplums dance in my head. On the contrary, I make these vows because I believein the words Noelle told me the night of our wedding – “My hope for ourmarriage is that the best is always yet to come.”

Now six months in – I can honestly say I’d never haveguessed it to be such a fun dance. Thereare times we do marriage quite well – it’s smooth, calculated, and lookseffortless. There are other times thatappear much more blocky, choppy, and uncoordinated. There are fast parts, slow parts, dips,twirls, and mistakes. But all along themusic keeps playing and we keep dancing knowing that as long as we keep vowingto hold on to each other the best is always yet to come.

Happy six months Noelle. I love you!

Blind to the Beauty

2011-08-19T16:30:00.001-04:00

Once upon a time there was a park-keeper whose job was to pick up liter on the spiked pole. Surrounded by the glorious beauty of flowers and trees, with the sun sparkling through the leaves, he only had eyes for the garbage he had to collect and the damage it did. The park-keeper could only see the bad, and was blind to the beauty.

I can’t think of anything worse in life than being blind to the beauty that’s right in front of us. And no story depicts this more clearly than story of the older brother in the Prodigal Son.

The oldest son is still in the fields when his brother returns. He comes in at the end of the day and stumbles into the feasting and dancing! Frustrated that he can’t remember the cause of such celebration or that they would even wait on him, he grabs a servant and says, “What’s all this?” The servant replies, “Your brother – he’s come home!”

Filled with rage the oldest son refuses to come inside. Yet the father sees this tantrum through the Palestinian doors and goes out to meet him pleading him to reconsider. But the boy replies, “Listen, all these years I’ve worked and never disobeyed. Not once. But that son of yours squanders a third of our estate and you do this for him?

And the father replies, “My son, you are always with me, and all I have is yours. Isn’t it right to join in the celebration and be happy? This is your brother we’re talking about. He was dead but is alive again; he was lost and is now found!”

Then the story ends.

When we move into the life and psyche of the older son, did you feel his resentment? I mean what kind of brother is this? How self-righteous and pretentious do you have to be to not see that your younger brother coming home is a big deal? And I’m sure you know people like this.

The older brother is so concerned about why his own father would butcher his fattened calf . . . so concerned about the nature of the party . . . he won’t even go inside . . . he can’t even celebrate . . . I mean he’s been the one slaving in the fields . . . he’s been the one remaining dutiful and obedient. Where’s his party? Where’s his fattened calf? Where’s his reward? He’s blind to the beauty.

And don’t you know these people? These are the people who turn everything around back to them. They one-up every story. They misconstrue details to make them look better. And they only tell stories in which they’re the hero. Yet there’s always something wrong with these people. They’re like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. They complain. Nag. Bicker. And judge. Always self-loathing. Always jealous. And it’s as if every time you talk to them they are forming, in not-so-subtle ways, a bedrock of resentment. And laced in every word is the phrase, “I didn’t get what I was due.” These people can’t see the beauty right in front of them.

And you know these people. These are the ones who don’t really come to church. Who never join the celebration. Who always sit on the sidelines saying, “Woe is me.” I used to hate these people, until I realized that I’m one of them.

I bet you know exactly what I mean. We all live in a world of jealousy, resentment, and great deal of fear. We all try to mask it so the world can’t see, but in the darkest corners of our heart, it eats at our soul.

You know, maybe this older brother in the parable is hard to be around, but he’s pretty easy to identify with. He’s hurt. He’s in a dark place. He’s blind to the beauty right in front of him. And I’m pretty sure we are too.

We Don't Worship

2011-08-13T17:53:00.012-04:00

A king wanting to celebrate his son’s wedding invites the big-wigs and big-names and puts the wedding announcement in the paper. TV shows run commercials about the cost of the dress and the size of the cake. I mean this wedding is going to be big. And why not . . . this prince is worth it! So the invitations go out . . . and they are nice invitations . . . but nobody RSVPs. Nobody cares. Nobody goes.

So the king sends his servants to find out why but half of them are killed. Killed? Who would murder servants hunting down RSVPs?

But I know you already know what’s going on - I mean come on Barrett, this is Matthew 21-22. Pay attention to the setting of the story. Jesus is in the temple having a private conversation with the Temple rulers. No one else is there. He’s two chapters away from being murdered, and he’s making enemies left and right. This parable must be about the religious leaders.

So it makes sense. The kingdom of heaven is like a banquet that God’s hosts in Jesus’ honor. The Pharisees, Sadducees and Scribes make the invitation list but they don’t go. They don’t even RSVP.

But how could they not go? They were invited to God’s party! Why couldn’t they see this was a big deal? They rejected it. Spat on it. They should have been the first in line. They were so close. They were invited. They were right there on the cusp of something great, something perpetual, something everlasting, they could see it, but they saw no value in it.

And I don’t think we do either! God comes to us, invites us, hosts a party in Jesus’ honor with us in mind, yet we refuse the invitation. We make excuses, rationalize our fate, and downplay the importance of the celebration. We don’t see it as an invitation to meet God; we, instead, care more about everything else than we do worshiping God. That which our lives should be most about has become what its least about. We don’t worship anymore.

Which takes me back to the parable: Not only do the townspeople kill the servants, but the parable says the king then declares war on the townspeople – although this is debatable. Several ancient, manuscripts omit this detail. But whether you think the king killed more of the townspeople or not is not the point. This day was supposed to be about a wedding . . . now it’s turned into a war!

Worship is supposed to be a party that inaugurates a marriage. It’s supposed to be a rite of passage, but everyone involved in it is at war.

But I don’t know why this shocks me. Our world today is the same way. We can’t get past our bruised egos, our backstabbing or pointing nuclear bombs to actually prepare for enjoying a wedding banquet together. I can’t name two countries after watching an hour of CNN that are still allies. Everyone hates one another. Nobody wants to go to a party to see each other. I don’t even think I could name one church in our own association that would want to do a joint service with us. We’ve all being invited to this wedding but we don’t want to go.

We don’t care about the banquet. We aren’t interested in celebrating. We don’t want to be around one another. We don’t see a need to truly worship.

Maybe this is why mainline Protestantism is dying. Maybe that’s why we fill our three hundred seat sanctuaries with all forty of us. Maybe that’s why the millennial generation dubs itself spiritual but not religious.

Because none of us religious organizations care about Matthew’s messianic, wedding banquet. We don’t care two lives are merging together. We don’t even understand that this wedding is between God and humanity.

Maybe that’s the point of the parable. God's saying here, “This wedding banquet’s a big deal and you aren’t even paying attention!”

There’s something life-changing in Jesus right now, right in front of us and we’re missing it. We’re rejecting it. Sometimes we’re even subverting it, holding it up, and killing it. It’s time churches and individuals realize the importance of being at this banquet. God is calling us to be participate in worship.

For “Thy kingdom’s come and thy will’s being done . . . but not by us.” But we could if we just accept the invitation. We’re already invited . . . the life-changing banquet is moments away . . . we just have to go!

Lean Towards the Divine

2011-08-08T17:22:00.008-04:00

I preached from Ephesians yesterday.

I learned Ephesus is a city of great size, rich with money, opportunity, and resources. Its church also has resources and opportunities for growth. But it’s small. Its direction is shaky and the people are full of anxiety.

I think all churches get this way. Over the past few weeks I’ve been reading the history of my own church. What once started as a growing community full of resources, energy, and optimism has now turned into a congregation that may or may not feel up to the challenges of our day. We think we lack resources, we think we lack young energy, and we talk with a pessimistic discourse.

And perhaps for good reason.

Our last few years have been rocky. We’ve had ministers split the church and incredible ministry initiatives put to rest. We stare now at mounds of debt and mounds of anxiety. We aren’t as confident in our identity as we used to be and we don’t feel as up to the challenges that lie ahead. We say we minister but to whom and for what? What is our mission? We say we serve but who is it that is being blessed by us?

The church in Ephesus is asking the same thing! They have loads of resources but aren’t sure how to use them. They have loads of important people but aren’t sure how to connect with them. They have loads of opportunity but aren’t sure how to focus them. They say their Christian but do little for God’s kingdom. They’re trapped in their own ontological anxiety fearful of change, fearful to stay the same, and fearful their worst nightmares will come true – that they will be ineffective.

And we're the same way.

So what is the answer? Do we sit in our ontological anxiety fearing the worst? Or do we look up, lean towards the divine with a faith that says it’s always darkest before dawn?

The Apostle Paul hopes for the latter . . . so do I.

And that's one of the main roles of a pastor - helping others see the need to lean towards the divine.

A Call to Stand

2011-07-31T17:18:00.007-04:00

Standing ‘six cubits and a span’ theologian Ralph Klein says Goliath would be 9’9” carrying 127 pounds of armor. Goliath is big. He’s mean. And he stands on the fault lines of war calling out to Saul to send out his best warrior to fight.

At that moment David, a goat herder, walks into the temple courts and demands to see the king. He stands confidently as he reels off his credentials before Saul saying, “I’ve saved lambs from lions and I can save you from the Philistines. For it is not me that will win this fight but rather YHWH.”

So Saul clothes David with his armor but to no avail. It’s too heavy. He sheds it, picks up a sling and a rock, and heads out onto the battlefield.

Goliath is fit to be tied when he sees it’s a boy the Israelites have selected to fight him. So he runs after him with an armor bearer. And David takes off running too. Scripture says as Goliath charged with a sword, spear and javelin but David charges with the Lord of Hosts. What a moment in scripture!

We are just like David standing out on the fault lines of fear. We live in a world in which we face governmental sized bullying, people groups who are too insecure to live at peace with one another, and individuals who just want to watch the world burn.

Yet, we are our generation’s preachers, prophets, social workers, missionaries, counselors and priests. We, like David, are on a crash course in leadership, social activism, and protest, and we are called to stand against bullies.

And here I think seems to be the message for us. No matter our age, young, old, and anything in-between, when God calls . . . we stand.

But you may feel at times like your ragged slingshot and measly pebbles aren’t good enough to face the bullies of the times, but in God, even the most meager of tools can meet the fiercest opponent.

Parker Palmer reminds us,

We have places of fear inside of us, but we have other places as well – places with names like trust and hope and faith. We can choose to lead from one of those places, to stand on ground that is not riddled with the fault lines of fear, to move toward others from a place of promise instead of anxiety.

God doesn’t promise us a life that will be giant free or bully proof. We will face our Goliaths and we will stand on the fault lines of fear. It may not be a giant human that we face, but it will be ‘six cubits and a span’ of worldview, ignorance, fear, and hate. If we we don’t stand, more women will be lied to, more people groups will be overlooked, and more humans will suffer.

We must stand against the bullies of our day

But the story of David and Goliath breaks down at the point that God calls us to destroy our bullies. That’s not the message. Rather, in the midst of our battle, in the midst of a bully’s campaign, God calls us to stand. Stand for righteousness, stand for justice, stand for peace, love, restoration, and please stand for redemption.

There are little boys and little girls who need ministering to that face the heartache of abuse that comes from being bullied. There are illegal immigrants, homosexuals, homeless, impoverished, malnourished, diseased people who feel the sting of an oppressive society bullying them. There are countries who are bullied by other countries, laws that push people groups to the fringes, and doctrinal statements that damn people to hell – all of these sad situations need a faithful goat herder to stand against them.

For some of us just making it through today is a battle with Goliath. I get that. Life, at times, is about standing in the middle of our field stripped of armor and facing our Goliaths . . . and that’s fearful. But take heart, for Christianity teaches God is present in our standing.

As faithful Christians, we must accept the call to stand.

The Witness of Preaching

2011-07-29T16:00:00.002-04:00

The majority of my sermons are transferable. In other words, I write them generically in order to use them in different contexts and settings without changing much of the verbiage.

I used to pride myself on being able to write this way, but now I’m learning that this is not always the best preaching practice. Diana Butler Bass reminds me in her book The Practicing Congregation that preachers must speak out of their own narrative, in their own time, to their own people. To do anything else is to soften or neglect the importance of the gospel for that community of grace.

Tom Long’s The Witness of Preaching takes this image a step further and argues that preachers are only preachers because they are birthed out of a congregation and given the holy task of witnessing.

Witnessing, Long argues, takes on two forms: seeing and speaking. A witness may go to the biblical text with eagerness and readiness to see or she/he may stumble upon something unintended. Regardless, in order to preach . . . something must first be seen. This may be the most important part of the preaching ministry because it requires a humble, eager, and mature heart, for not everything in scripture is easy to see.

Secondly, a witness must take the stand and speak on behalf of what was seen. Preachers must tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth . . . but do it in a way that is comprehendible, accessible, and applicable to one’s life. In short, preachers must interpret what is seen and speak it in a way that edifies, unites, and uplifts.

To preach a generic sermon is to witness on behalf of nobody. It neglects the audience. It muddies the claim God has for a community. To not take the witnessing seriously is to deflate the power of the gospel. To not speak of what is seen it in a way that unites is a tragedy, for that is what God is using us preachers to do – spread a uniting message of love, peace, acceptance and salvation.

I love to preach – I just wish I were better at it.

Ego and Insecurity

2011-07-18T00:37:00.003-04:00

For whatever reason, now, I find myself in a liminal space reflecting as I gear up for another semester of marriage, school, ministry, recruiting, traveling, speaking, learning, preaching, and pastoring. And I’m noticing a trend – it’s difficult to live out of my “best” self.

In other words, the rat race of life, scheduling, recruiting, preaching, etc. break me down, loosen my screws, and distort my perception of productivity. I think I’m managing but in reality I’m coping. I replace peace with prestige and tranquility with titles. I get absorbed in what I need to get done and overlook or dismiss the people closest to me. I get angry when something causes me to look bad and get upset with myself for getting angry.

Reflecting on this anger makes me hate myself. Hating myself causes me to doubt my ability to perform which causes me to distrust God’s calling on my life which generates endless insecurities about my own belovedness. In other words, I’m constantly living out of ego and insecurity.

I respond by presenting myself to be invincible fearing my brokenness is too repulsive and fearing the world won’t want me to be who I think I need to be in order to feel whole. In short, I fear I don’t count for anything. So I react to this anxiety with pathological self-obsession. My insecurities think nobody cares about me while my ego places me at the center of my own alternate universe. And ironically both of these voices still cause me to think nobody is noticing.

Dallas Willard words my symptoms perfectly in his book The Divine Conspiracy.

Egotism is a reaction to anxiety about whether one really does count. It is a form of acute self-consciousness . . . It is a desperate response to the need we all have to count for something and be held to be irreplaceable, without price.

Needless to say, I feel like my own worthiness has a price. If I achieve enough, take on enough projects, make good enough grades, preach well enough, tell funny enough stories, then somewhere somebody will notice and tell me I’m worthy. They’ll tell me I’m irreplaceable. They’ll tell me I’m loved.

And I’m not sure I’m the only one living this way. A lot of us seem to seek the approval of others while living with the anxiety that we don’t measure up. We hope to be recognized for our gifts and to be given a platform to share them with the world while avoiding the shadow sides of our lives.

And that’s the peculiar thing about ego and insecurity. Neither one of them leave room for exploring the shadow, sinful, gross, dark corners of who we are. They just cover them up. So we never talk about the feelings of unworthiness we all carry. I guess if we did we’d realize we aren’t invincible. If we realized that I guess we’d realize we’re actually wounded which means we’re in need of a healer/savior. If we realized that I guess we’d realize we ourselves aren’t saviors. If we realized that I guess we’d humble ourselves enough to allow God to speak into our lives -- which ironically is what we preach from our platforms.

This lifestyle is exhausting. I desperately wish I could live out of my “best” self. But I’m not sure I’ve ever met him. I know he doesn’t worry about ego or insecurity. He claims his belovedness from God and lives in it each day with reckless abandonment. He knows that his shadow side, his woundedness, is part of being human and it’s ok if someone finds out about it.

So that’s where I’ll start. I’ll start by exploring and examining the shadow sides of my life. If I can know myself better, then I can know God better. If I can know God better, then I can help others find God too. If I can help others find God then I’m no longer the center of my own universe. If I can stop being the center of my own universe, then maybe I’ll be able to see God noticing me and telling me I’m worthy. I’m irreplaceable. I’m loved.

We Don't Care, Tithe, or Act Concerned

2011-06-30T15:43:00.007-04:00

The latest buzz from the postmodern, millennial group in Baptist life is that “they don’t care about the conservative resurgence.” There is also a growing feeling that says, “They don’t care about the institutional church.” Perhaps a third reality is emerging saying, “I’m spiritual, but I’m not religious.” I realize these are generalizations but I’d be surprised if you disagree with them.

Fueled by a desire to ‘hang with the herd,’ these young adults refuse, reject, and rebuff denominational loyalty for fear of causing separation or marginalization. Words like “community,” “intentionality,” and “ecumenicism” are mentioned way before words like “doctrinal,” “controversy” or “resurgence.” And it appears that this is happening on both sides of the aisle.

Millennials cannot bear the thought of intentionally ostracizing a group. They tip their caps in appreciation to denominational bodies like CBF or SBC but do little to strengthen, to support, or to foster solidarity with them. In short, whether millennials appreciate the theology of a particular denomination or not, it is increasingly apparent that feelings of ennui are emerging.

Likewise, this inactivity is affecting the financial stability of denominations. Millennials don’t tithe. They’re finding alternative and creative forms of giving while rejecting traditional church offering. Both the CBF and the SBC are losing members, losing financial resources, losing missionaries, losing educational curriculum, and losing cultural relevance while organizations like Bread for the World, HisNets, or World Vision continue to sustain their annual budgets.

On a similar note, millennials are building foundational beliefs about faith and morality based on experiential truths as opposed to doctrinal or creedal statements. And this is happening outside of Sunday School. They are more likely to say that Jesus is the “fullest expression of God’s love . . . but not the only expression” just as much as they are likely to say, “I’m spiritual but don’t go to church.” In other words, one can find God in a Benedictine prayer ritual just as easily as a Muslim mosque or on top of a mountain. In short, organized religion is no longer the norm.

Since faith for millennials is less about doctrine or institutional fellowship and more about experiential learning, beliefs such as wholeness over segregation, love over hate, commonalities over discrepancies, activism over bitterness, shared story over division, and missional engagement over doctrinal supremacy become their heart’s cry. They carry a sense of optimism and are constantly on a quest towards wholeness.

In my opinion, millennials have a lot to offer the world. Their optimism, need for reconciliation, and attitude towards the sanctity of all life make them marketable. They are motivated, not offended. They care about creation, people, worldviews, religions, art, creativity, sexuality, and beauty.

But on the other hand, I’m weary of their effectiveness. If they aren’t mindful they will live in a world were liberal art colleges don’t exist, churches are boarded up or sold to the government, and missionaries are nothing more than a storied past. Giving up on financially supporting denominational bodies or larger institutions is a risky hope. It’s a hope that something new will emerge. But since this group doesn’t like division, corporate advancement, or institutions I wonder what could ever create enough momentum to have longevity?

I’m critical of this behavior because I'm a millennial. And in my opinion we don’t care, tithe, or act concerned about this reality. I guess we should. But we don't.

How We Feel Shapes the Way We Think

2011-06-17T15:51:00.006-04:00

There’s an old story told of a father who left his dime store to his two sons in his last will and testament. After a terrible fight the brothers split the dime store, became competitors in the same town, and stopped speaking to one another for twenty years. The fight was over the misplacement of a one dollar bill.

After twenty years of fighting, a well dressed man entered one of the dime stores telling a story of how twenty years ago he stole a dollar and he’d now come to repay his debt. In tears the one brother takes the man across town to his competing brother’s store asking him to tell his brother the same story.

With tears in their eyes, thanks to the honesty of this well-dressed man, the two brothers reconciled.[1]

This story sets in bold the dynamics that are always at work in our world. We never approach a situation, a relationship, or a conversation with full neutrality. We invariably bring with us certain images or emotional predispositions and these factors shape us in ways that go beyond our near comprehension.

For example, somewhere, deep inside the younger brother, was a shadow of suspicion that he could not let go of and this is what caused him to become bitter rivals with his brother for twenty years.

Underneath our actions are emotional images that we bring with us into every situation. How we feel about things shapes the way we think of things. I would have a much worse time watching the Patriots play than I would the Titans for I have negative images about the Patriots and they color how I react to football. How we feel about things shapes the way we think of things.

This is especially true with our relationship to God.

Down underneath our subconscious lies an image we give to what we believe God is doing in the world. And we carry this image with us.

Is God for us or against us?
Is God a father or a foe?
Did God kill your mother, baby, or dog?
Did God give you cancer, AIDS, or terrible parents?
Did God cause the natural disaster?
Did God send your son to war?
Did God keep you from furthering your career or cause you to suffer from an addiction?

We all have images of God.

I think this is why John, when writing his gospel, words 1:29 the way he does. He anticipates the hostility listeners/readers would have with their images of God. That’s why he says, “Jesus is the lamb of God who comes to take away the sins of the world.”

Jesus does for us what the well dressed stranger did for the dime store brothers. He casts new light about an event that has been misinterpreted and thus gotten everything crossed up, and this retelling opens the door for reconciliation to occur. Jesus (as the lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world) retells God's story, and to as many as believe him, he offers the gift of healing.

Maybe it's time we Christians re-author our image of God.

[1] Story taken from a John Claypool sermon

Jesus' Ascension

2011-06-03T15:51:00.009-04:00

The ascension is our most neglected doctrine. We don’t know what to do with it. Our liberal friends dismiss it on account of skepticism and rationality. Our extremely conservative friends believe scripture tells us exactly where Jesus goes – up.

But then what? Where did that lead? Where did he land? Did he land? How far is up? We've been to space, we didn’t see heaven. Or did we see heaven? We've been as far up as science can take us – is Jesus higher than that? If we try hard enough could we fly a space shuttle into heaven? If Jesus went up in time and space, doesn’t that mean he is still in time and space? Where is this up? Can we get to this up? Is Jesus still up there?

You can see the difficulty we have with this unique moment in scripture. So what do we believe about the ascension?

A lot of people believe it is a symbolic way of saying that Jesus became “spiritually” present everywhere. I’m sure you’ve thought this on some level. When Jesus ascends he goes to Heaven and becomes alive in our hearts – spiritually.

We accept this kind of language. We adopt this ideology. According to this view, though, Jesus appears without remainder. His “spiritual presence” is his only identity. This view is widely accepted, but it’s wrong.

Jesus’ identity is not the Spirit. He and the Holy Spirit are different. They are distinct agents of the Trinity.

I’m not saying, "Jesus isn’t present with us" . . . Jesus very much is . . . through the Holy Spirit . . . BUT . . . he is not spiritually present with us based on the events of the ascension. The ascension tells us Jesus’ body is intact and is residing with God.

To help us understand better . . . we need to think about heaven.

In Biblical cosmology, there are not two different locations for heaven and earth. They’re two dimensions within the same time and space continuum. The best way for me to understand this concept is to think about folding your hands together. Heaven and earth are separate but merging together and intertwining. Heaven is not on the backside of Mars but rather right here, in our world, in our space, in our lives, on Earth.

But since heaven is in another dimension besides our 3-D world, it works best to see it as relating to earth in two ways.

The first way is mystical. Jesus, in this view, can be present anywhere and everywhere on earth at the same time. Jesus isn’t present in spirit form but rather heaven is available for everyone to experience, feel, partner with, etc. When heaven is seen as available to all, Jesus’ ascended body becomes available to all.

Second, heaven is the control room for earth; it is the CEO’s office, the place from which instructions are given. Jesus proclaims, “All authority is given to me, in heaven and on earth.”

This view has Jesus making decisions from heaven as it intersects with earth. Humanity in this case can find where God/Jesus/Holy Spirit is working and go there to help further heaven on earth.

What does all this mean about the ascension? It means Jesus is with God in heaven in his bodily state. The ascension does not mean Jesus is in spirit form. The Holy Spirit is in spirit form.

The idea of the human Jesus being in heaven in his thoroughly embodied risen state, comes as a shock to many people. People think Jesus having been divine stopped being divine and became human and then stopped being human and went back to being divine.

I think our culture is so used to a Platonic idea that heaven is, by definition, “a place of spiritual, nonmaterial reality” so that the idea of a solid body being not only present but also thoroughly at home seems like a categorical mistake. The ascension, though, invites us to rethink all this.

Heaven must be seen as a place that interacts with our world. Jesus must be seen as our Messiah who is physically with God in heaven. The spirit is what is with us on earth. If you get all this confused its ok. Just remember the ascension reminds us of the ancient Christian understanding of bodily resurrection and a bodily afterlife.

We Didn't Rapture - Now What?

2011-05-23T16:10:00.001-04:00

The world didn’t end on May 21, 2011. Rev. Harold Camping was wrong. He thought we had to leave this world to be with God -- and that is what matters most. I disagree. Passages like John 14, Revelation 21, and Micah 6, scream out to me that the ‘here and now’ is what matters most.

I admire Camping for his sense of expectancy but I’m afraid his energy is misplaced. Expectancy is not waiting on Jesus to bring you home to heaven. It’s, rather, believing in the ‘here and now,’ in the ‘ongoing creation of the world,’ in ‘heaven on earth’ (where we abide in God). I’d argue we’re already home.

I believe this world matters. It matters so much that after Jesus dies, he comes back to it – physically and spiritually.

This tells me there’s work to be done, lives to influence, environments to protect, messages to preach, families to love, and worlds to restore.

So live with expectancy – expecting to see God, expecting the world to change, and expecting that through Jesus there is a marriage between God and humanity that is growing closer every day. That’s the point of the gospel. We don’t wait for the world to end; instead, we engage the world to show others how Jesus helps us abide in God.

Shepherds and Gates

2011-05-22T14:35:00.006-04:00

In John 10 Jesus says, “Very truly I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit.”

He’s telling us things enter our world, intersect in our lives and rob us of our joys, our loves, our loved ones. At times, these sheep are us. We are taken from our home, we’re stripped from our core, true selves. Things enter our lives seeking to destroy who we are and what we’re meant to be. We lose sheep to cancer, to pain, to struggle, to divorce, to death. We have relationships stolen from us, children who die before we do, and just like the sheep – we don’t see it coming.

And Jesus knows this. That’s why he tells us to be aware. Christians must know there’s evil in the world and all sheep need a shepherd.

So that’s Jesus’ role – to be our shepherd? Right? He’s whom we look to in times of strife?

Sort of.

Jesus does say in scripture he is the good shepherd, but he also says, “I am the gate.”

Not the gatekeeper, bandit, or sheep, but the gate itself. He is the gate that has eternalness, the gate that endures.

"I am the gate" he says, “through which the shepherd and the sheep pass in order to be saved from being stolen, slaughtered and destroyed. I am the gate through which the shepherd and the sheep pass in order to have fullness of life. I am the gate through which the shepherd and the sheep pass so everything that is good, holy, and pure can come through me.

Wait . . . if Jesus is the gate . . . who is the shepherd?

We are.

Good leaders must know that Jesus is the gate; Jesus is the one whom we lead the sheep to and through. Jesus is where we point our fears, our hurts, our angers, our friends, our concerns, our loved ones, our enemies, our faith, our prayers, our time, our energy, and our thoughts. All of these things must pass through the gate.

For most of us we look to Jesus to only be our Shepherd and in one sense he is, but God is also telling us that all who dare to call on Jesus’ name power is given to us to become shepherds who lead sheep.

It’s time we realize that we’re the shepherds. We have to watch out for bandits while caring for the flocks by night. We are the ones called to care for the flock, seek out the lost, and lead those who follow. And as shepherds we must never forget to enter through the gate.

Of course this is only relevant if we are looking to enjoy life and enjoy it abundantly.

Parents: They're a Test a Faith

2011-05-05T12:16:00.003-04:00

Churches this Sunday will give out a rose and clap for the oldest mother in the sanctuary. They will sing songs about family and pay no attention to the females who haven’t birthed a baby. They will preach children’s sermons that center on obedience and adult sermons that challenge everyone to call home. This Sunday, Christians across America will be challenged to honor their father and mother.

Is it fair, though, to ask those whose parents abandoned or abuse them to honor their father and mother? What about females who accept a call from God to go to seminary despite their parents saying they are forbidden? What about the men who discover they are gay and are disbarred from the family tree? What about the young lady who never meets her dad? Or the crack baby born into a hostile environment? What about the girl whose parents give too little too late?

Are these people required by God to “honor” their parents? It appears society’s answer is, “No!”

In a recent edition of the Christian Century Magazine one of the articles created a new Top Ten Commandments for the 21^st Century. You may not be shocked to hear that “Honor your father and mother” – didn’t make the list.

This commandment does seem to be a bit outdated – but it doesn’t have to be.

Take the verb “honor.” In Hebrew it means “to be heavy.” In a sense God is telling Israel to “give weight to parents” or “to think much of them.” This verb doesn’t render a command to be submissive nor does it advocate obedience as much as it suggests appropriating the seriousness of the parental role.

From a contextual standpoint, this verse has more to do with not alienating the elderly than it does about obedience.

For an Israelite community trying to get on its feet, agriculture and labor become necessities. To honor your father and mother just may be saying, “When your parents are too old to work on the farm, don’t abandon them.”

This is important for Israel because her longevity depends on remembering unrepeatable events. This leads to another reason why God gives this command – it keeps the family’s story alive.

To not honor your parents is to break the lineage, to stop the story, and to inevitably shut down the passing of history. The weight of Israel’s escape from Egypt, the crossing of the Red Sea, the tent bearing God’s presence, and all the other shared memories stop when this commandment is broken.

Honoring your father and mother may mean caring for them in old age, but it also means honoring their story.

It’s hard, though, telling the stories of the parents you can’t remember or the parents that hate you. We have moms and dads who emotionally ruin us, reject our love, and discard our accomplishments. And these events shadow our entire lives.

But Frederick Buechner reminds us in Wishful Thinking,

Honor them anyway for the pain that made them what they are and the hurt that kept them from who they wanted to be. Honor them anyway, for even at their worst, they were doing the best they knew at the time. Honor them for the roles they were appointed to play, because even when they played them abominably or didn’t even play them at all, the roles themselves are holy. Honor them because, however unthinkingly or irresponsibly, they gave you your life. (Buechner, 81)

I’m grateful to have parents that, despite only a handful of memories, deserve to be honored. They are good people. But I lived the majority of my childhood dishonoring them – probably because I’m the younger of two highly successful brothers. I spent the majority of middle school and high school years parading around gymnasiums and ballparks watching my brothers play ball. I tried not to show it but I longed and was in desperate need of my parents’ blessing.

It wasn’t until my sophomore year in college, I was preaching at a summer camp. I remember my parents came to hear me preach. After the worship service mom and dad looked at me and for the first time in my life I heard them say, “We are proud of you!” All the pain, all the resentment, all the emotional energy was finally released. I was finally somebody’s son.

They had told me before that they were proud of me, but this was the first time I believed it. It wasn’t because I achieved something or earned a grade or received an award. I was just finally becoming me. I was at a place where I was comfortable enough to accept their blessing as well as their shortcomings and honor them for it.

Honoring mom and dad may mean caring for them in old age as well as telling their story, but becoming who God made you to be is the best way you can honor your parental figures this Mother’s Day.

At Humanity's Worst, Divinity is at Her Best

2011-04-24T15:43:00.000-04:00

Matthew’s version of the resurrection intrigues me. Peter and the Beloved Disciple believe in Jesus’ resurrection at the sight of the empty tomb, but Mary Magdalene doesn’t. She thinks the body is stolen.

Mary is skeptical. Her broken heart and disbelief overwhelm her to tears.

Immediately, though, two angels appear and ask, “Why do you weep?” She replies, “They’ve taken my Lord’s body!” Then, as if heaven opens and the angels tell her to turn and see, Mary meets her resurrected Lord.

This detail strikes me because of its timeliness. At the single most intense moment of Mary’s doubt, when all else fails, when she completely gives in, when even angels themselves can’t make her believe, or hope against hope, or turn from despair . . . Jesus appears.

And it’s the same today as it was then. The very moment we feel as if all hope is lost, Jesus appears. For at humanity’s worst, divinity is at her best.

That’s the story of Mary Magdalene and the empty tomb. That’s the story of her disbelief. That’s the whole story of Easter! When we are at our worst, God is at God’s best.

And do you know how Jesus shows God’s best . . . he defeats death.

That’s what makes Mary Magdalene believe. It’s what makes the beloved disciple run off believing after seeing the empty tomb. Salvation doesn’t occur because Jesus died, but rather because he lives! That’s what makes Peter, Thomas and all the disciples believe.

The story of the cross and resurrection is that at humanities worst, divinity is at her best. And when you come into contact with it, it changes everything.

It’s what sends people like you and me to seminary or overseas or to our knees praying. When we interact with the divine our worldview shifts, our skepticism subsides, our fears release.

For at humanities worst, divinity is at her best. And when we believe in this, we are given a power that sends us running knowing that our king is alive; death has been defeated!

Intersecting with Divinity

2011-04-18T13:14:00.005-04:00

Luke describes Jesus’ triumphal entry like this: “As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they have seen, saying “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD.”

Interestingly, there’s no parade from the people of Jerusalem. It’s the disciples screaming in the streets about the divinity of the donkey riding king.

It doesn’t appear anyone in Jerusalem cares about Jesus. They don’t shout, wave palms, or lay down cloaks. Not in Luke. Jerusalem doesn’t burst with excitement or with anger. They just move on as if nothing happened. Divinity is right in their midst, and they do nothing.

If we’re honest with ourselves we’d admit divinity meets us every morning for coffee and we fail to realize its significance. Jesus intersects in our lives but we move on as if nothing happened.

My senior year of college I volunteered to be a Spiritual Life Assistant for freshmen. The semester started off good with Bible Study and prayer group meetings, but as the semester continued my presence and availability for these students waned. By the end of the semester I found myself sending emails and canceling lunch plans with people I was supposed to be ministering to. I got busy. I didn’t have time. I quit looking. I stared divinity in the face and did nothing.

We are just like the people of Jerusalem. We say we are looking for a king, but when our faith demands our lives to change – we resist, we ignore, we build reasonable excuses to just continue practicing our ‘conveyor belt’ faith. We don’t celebrate. We aren’t joyful or nostalgic. We just ignore it.

It’s a shame Jerusalem misses the majesty of Palm Sunday. Jesus could have helped change their lives, teach them about the coming kingdom, and showcase a better way to live. He may not have even had to die. Instead they (Jerusalem extremists) turned against, arrested, and eventually killed him for no better reason than he disturbed their ‘conveyor belt’ faith.

It’s equally shameful that (even though we know better) we continually ignore divinity moving and being in our midst. We ignore our needed participation in the kingdom as well as nurturing our relationship with Christ.

I wonder how differently our lives would look if we actually noticed that divinity does intersect with our humanity? My guess is we’d be better Christians. My guess is we’d be a better Church.

But I wouldn’t know because I keep choosing to stay the same.

Prosperity, Progress, and Power

2011-03-26T19:52:00.003-04:00

We humans look at the zenith of our God-given potential and artistry and believe it is our highest good. We look at our cities and pride ourselves on our conquest of the environment. We look at our technology and medical advances and think that we can control our destinies. We look to our prosperity and think we can provide for our needs.

Yet in humanity’s great narrative, empires come and go. Every century presents a new world order. And in every case – the present power falls. Even though we have gone from tents to buildings, camels to cars, roads to airplanes, the constant in history is not power . . . but the replacement of power.

Mark 13 is the promise of the final replacement of power.

Scripture says the sun will darken and the moon will give no light. The stars will fall from above and the heavens will shake producing a cloud of God’s glory hovering over the kingdoms of the earth.

This, in other words, is God’s is final replacement of power. I argue Jesus’ ministry, death, resurrection, ascension and kingdom invite us to help God move us toward this end.

Theologically, this should offer us a scale of values that determine what is important and what is not. Is it progress or is it parousia? Is it earthly Kingdoms or is it the Kingdom of God? How many towers of Babel must we build before we realize progress for the sake of progress isn’t always beneficial?

In Mark 13, Jesus is saying, “My progress is what’s important, not yours. My kingdom is what matters – not yours.”

Yet we still spend our time, energy, incredible amount of resources and money, to keep our standard of living up and our way of life progressing. Churches still give 45% of their budget to maintenance, insurance, and repairs but only 10% to missions. Others take out $2.5 million loans to build additional educational space and fancier baptisteries while less than 10% of the budget goes to global aid. In the hard economic times some churches have even scrapped their mission budget entirely to concentrate more tithes into a mutual fund to save for a “rainy day.”

Jesus puts the nail in the coffin by saying in Mark, “Don’t you get it . . . not one stone you build will be left standing.”

This shape of the future must add a new agenda to our present way of living. We must be people who care more about God’s future, God’s people, God’s Kingdom – not our own. We must be a people who give our time, energy, resources, and money to God’s global kingdom – not our own. We must be people who realize the future is in God’s hands – not our own; unless we think the bible is saying something different.

It's Better if We Don't Include Everyone

2011-02-16T10:38:00.001-05:00

In Matthew 15 Jesus and the disciples bump into a Canaanite woman in need for Jesus to heal her daughter. After her first plea for Jesus to help, the disciples beg Jesus to make the woman go away for she is a nuisance.

They act just like our churches do today.

I mean fellowship, communion, and membership are not for everyone. We can’t have anyone and everyone walking around our stuff, getting in our space, and worshiping our God. It wouldn’t be kosher. It wouldn’t be clean.

I mean what if I came in to church on a Sunday morning and someone was sitting in my seat, on my pew? What if they were homeless? What if they were gay? What if they were poor or had too many unruly children? What if they looked Muslim or, (for the Caucasians in Georgia), what if they were black?

Just imagine the mess it would cause if we didn’t properly screen our members.

It’s just better if we don’t include everyone. We won’t say that we are excluding, we just won’t advertise that we are inclusive either. We’ll duck our heads, lay low, celebrate with our community only, and never reach out. Never branch out. Never go beyond the walls of our comfort level to embrace our neighbor, give voice to the voiceless, or care for the downtrodden. It’s just better this way.

Unfortunately too many of our churches nod in agreement with this mindset. I submit God is quite displeased with this.

God wants us to interact not distance. God needs us to engage not exclude. Is mercy not available to all who pursue it? So if someone comes in to church looking for mercy why aren’t we more willing to be the hands and feet of Jesus?

Maybe I’m wrong; maybe churches are doing a very good job of welcoming the stranger. But why then, I wonder, have church memberships in America been in steady decline since the Vietnam War?

Bullying

2011-02-08T22:04:00.002-05:00

Most people associate the word “bully” with seven year old boys taking other kids' lunch money.

But bullying is much worse than this. We may see signs of it at age seven but bullying has reached every level of the human condition.

Monthly teenagers all across the world are taking their own lives because of incessant bullying. Middle school girls are cutting themselves because they are told they are too fat, unpopular, and boyish. High school boys are physically beaten, emotionally tortured because they aren’t athletic enough or rather they choose to find identity in the arts. People groups bully their way into office, defy the sanctity of human life by pushing an agenda, promoting a plan, or just dictating a desire over loving their neighbor as themselves.

We see this happening in North Korea, Egypt, West Africa, Israel, and all across the world.

Did you know since the mid 70s in Argentina the government has run by such corrupt bullying system that every day there are children, teenagers, and even adult men who disappear by being kidnapped and tortured? The government takes them. Government trained soldiers break in, steal children, and then cover it up. Women, because of such a mass kidnapping of their sons, have begun a stand up to the violence by initiating a marching campaign once a week in the square of Plaza de Mayo. They are known worldwide as “Mothers of the Disappeared.” It’s a terrible situation.

Or how about in 1989 eight professors were bullied to the point of death in a Jesuit seminary in El Salvador. Their murdered bodies were placed in the courtyards while the rest of the women present were raped. And guess whose soldiers were found guilty of these murders: the soldiers trained at Fort Benning in Columbus, Georgia.

And that’s what bullying does. It preys on the weak.

Currently the American government is privately and secretly housing illegal immigrants across the nation in prisons. There are over 2000 of them now. Illegal immigrants are poured into unsanitary conditions until they are excommunicated from the country.

And when I look throughout history in search of bullies, I don’t have to look very far to realize one of the greatest bullies in history is Christianity itself. We started early in our history ostracizing those who thought differently, killing those who wouldn’t bow before our God. We’ve initiated wars, written books, declared doctrines one after another for thousands of years bullying our theology, bullying our agenda, killing those in our way, and “guilting” others into converting.

If we want Christianity to be a vibrant, realistic, life-changing option for the future then we must realize how we treat others and start being a people that no longer bullies.

We must start living our lives like Jesus, not like bullies.

Do Justice. Love Kindness. Walk Humbly.

2011-01-31T21:15:00.002-05:00

For too long churches have paraded around speaking Micah 6:8 as if it is a lullaby: Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with your God.

We say these words as if they carry little significance if not followed. We say these words as if they are simply guidelines for how life should be governed. But no. This is not the context of Micah 6.

Rather God is saying, “You’ve seen what is right, Judah. You know how to act. We’ve been over this before. Yet you still fail. I require justice, mercy and humility. And you don’t do any of these.”

For churches that come together and worship and offer proverbial sacrifices to God but do not do justice, love mercy and walk humbly are falling into the same patterned lifestyle that Judah fell into.

Micah 6:8 is not a lullaby, it is an indictment. It is a verdict. It is the theme in which life must be lived by or God will see this as a breach in covenant.

We must be people who look out into the world through the eyes of justice. This is not a request – it is our duty as children of God. We must start seeing the injustices of the world and start meeting them with a merciful heart. We must notice the children who die in Sub-Saharan Africa from Malaria. We must notice the families in Haiti dying from cholera. We must notice the families in our neighborhood who can’t offer their families enough to eat. We must notice the systemic hatred that runs through Georgia for Latin Americans for fear they are illegal. We must see that teenagers all across the world are being bullied to the point of death because of homophobia. We must notice where our money goes and who it goes to. Martin Luther King, Jr. used to say, “The universe bends towards justice.” I completely agree. But I’d add to this by saying, "It’s our responsibility to help it move."

We must also be people who look out into the world and love kindness. We must be the change we want people to see in this world. We must be the ones who embrace the outcast, disenfranchised, and lonely. We must be the ones who see life through the lens of the marginalized and downtrodden. If we don’t then who will? If we can’t, then how will the world know of God’s kindness? This is not a request – it is our duty as children of God. We must start searching for opportunities to spread God’s love through acts of kindness to the world. And this can look like so many different things: write letters to those you pray for, assist others in times of need, and listen to those who don’t have many to talk to. Kindness just may be the most forgotten Christian attribute.

Finally, we must also be people who walk out into the world humbly. A Christian life is only as strong as the devotion put in to it. We must be people who pray out a devoted heart to grow in our relationship to God. We must approach life with the humility that we don’t have all the answers and are ok with not having them. This is not a request – it is our duty as children of God. We must start in our journey humbly knowing that God is with us every step of the way.

Do justice.

Love kindness.

Walk humbly.

It’s what God’s calling Judah back to.

Do justice.

Love kindness.

Walk humbly.

It’s what our life must become. Christianity doesn't exist without ‘em.

Believer's Baptism

2011-01-22T12:07:00.003-05:00

Jesus’ baptism in Matthew 3 has nothing to do with his salvation; it has nothing to do with soul’s resting place. It’s rather a sign: a roaring symbol that has stood the test of 2000 years of debate, criticism, and skepticism. Jesus’ baptism is not a desperate, salvific attempt to catch a piece of the divine but rather an announcement, a holy summons, a proclamation that there is a God over this universe that loves all humankind and Jesus is choosing to abide with that love.

Jesus is claiming that which God tells us in scripture, “I am a child of God.”

Jesus’ didn’t get baptized to save his soul. We already knew that Jesus was the son of God. We were told in Matthew 1 with the Genealogy, we were told in Matthew 2 with the fulfillment of scripture, being born in Bethlehem, being visited by the angel, being visited by the Magi. Time and time again the readers of Matthew knew Jesus was divine, holy, set apart, a child of God . . . and so for Jesus to go into the murky waters of the Jordan River to claim salvation is silly . . . we know better . . . so why did he do it?

Jesus needed to claim his identity, his divinity, for himself.

It’s not enough to know we are children of God. We have to claim it. We have to accept it. We have to walk into the river of life and choose to lay your life down for another, for a better one, for a more blessed one.

Baptism for Jesus is a rite of passage. Jesus steps out of the wilderness and into the water. He walks down into the Jordan as a testimony of faith. He looks out across time and says, “This is so righteousness will be revealed.”

Baptism showcases for us a new order is at hand. The old way of doing life is radically changing. A new way of life is being claimed.

When we claim this new way of life for ourselves, I believe the heavens open and a dove like spirit descends down and we hear, maybe for the first time, our heavenly God say into our hearts, “You are my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.”

The year is 2006. I'm a youth minister at this time.

We just got back from our Fall Retreat where one of my students made a profession of faith. I’m so excited. It’s evident that his life is beginning to change towards carrying a sense of purpose, a longing, an excitement about the kingdom of God.

We meet with the pastor.

We meet with the parents.

Collectively we move forward in the pursuit of believers’ baptism by coming down front that Sunday. The boy stood before the church and said, “I want to (and these were his words) actively participate in the kingdom of God. I want to be a child of God. Jesus is my savior.”

The next Sunday comes. We dress in our cotton, white robes and process to the back of the church behind the alter ready for the occasion . . . ready for the miracle . . . ready to encounter . . . ready to be swept away into a space where time is irrelevant and all that matters is grace.

The choir stops singing but the piano keeps playing. It’s my turn to enter the baptismal pool.

I help the boy into the water with my right hand. He stands next to me with worry and excitement in his face. I place my hand on the small of his back, raise my right hand, look up to the God of the universe and say,

It is in obedience to the command of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that we baptize Alan, our brother in the Lord. . . in the name of the father, and of the son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

This was my first baptism as a minister. It’s a moment I’ll never forget.

For one, no one told me waders loose the oxygen in the legs when they become submerged under water and suction to you, and two, because I had my hands touching the garments of a sinner, I had my hands submerged in the pool of living water, and I helped resurrect not a sinner but rather someone who was finally claiming his identity as a child of God.

With tears in my eyes I looked out across the sanctuary and said, “Alan’s testimony this morning is a testimony of faith. Faith in that for the rest of Alan’s life he will know that he too has claimed his identity as a child of God.”

"God was with us"

2011-01-12T11:30:00.002-05:00

After winning the BCS National Championship game, Gene Chizik, head coach of the Auburn Tigers, said in his post game field interview, “God was with us . . .”

Immediately I was saddened.

I realize Gene Chizik is not trying to create a controversial statement or start a theological debate. I’m aware that January 10 will be one of the greatest days of his life, and in the moment of one of the biggest accomplishments of his career, he had the presence of mind to recognize the interplay between divinity and humanity. On one level I’m impressed by this attempt at humility, yet theologically speaking, I balk at it too.

Coach Chizik is correct in that God was with him and his team. We worship a God who is both transcendent and immanent. Transcendence is the attribute given to God which refers to God being wholly other, separate from creation, constantly ‘above’ the universe. Immanence is the attribute given to God which refers to God being wholly present, fully involved, constantly ‘within’ the universe. I’m sure when Chizik called out across the world that “God was with us” somewhere in his mind he was thinking of this theological paradox – surely.

Yet, theologically speaking, I profoundly disagree with the context in which Chizik spoke these simple words. To think God aided Auburn and abated Oregon is ludicrous. It suggests God has favorites, God chooses sides, and God’s greatest concern is on Western, American, college football.

As an ordained, Baptist minister and an orator of the salvific nature of the Triune God, I find it quite hard to go against verses like Acts 10:34 which say, “God shows no partiality or favoritism.” This statement is spoken by Peter and repeated again by Paul in Romans 2.

Chizik’s slip-of-the-tongue is yet another banal example of American-religious rhetoric. It reflects Western Christianity’s narrow scope of God’s influence, love, attention, and care. We, in America, don’t think enough about God’s global concerns. If we did then we wouldn’t treat God like a primordial bookie.

I fear the American-religious focus is solely on how God intervenes in our lives instead of how we can partner with God in the ongoing creation, ongoing redemption, and ongoing struggle of the world.

Our scope is too narrow. We think God is more concerned about the over/under of a game than we do about the Sudanese, the war in Korea, the babies in Haiti, the flood relief in Pakistan, America setting an all-time high for anti-depressant prescriptions, millions dying from preventable diseases like malaria, or the trafficked children of West Africa.

My point is God does care about us in the West. God does care about our happiness and our accomplishments, but God also cares about the Oregon Ducks, their depression, their self-esteem, as well as the Sudanese, the war in Korea, the babies in Haiti, flood relief in Pakistan, the depressed, diseased-ridden countries, and the trafficked children of West Africa.

I’m not mad at Chizik. I’m mad that American-religious rhetoric isn’t better. It’s time for our religious rhetoric to start speaking more globally instead of so locally.

Sudden Realizations

2011-01-04T15:28:00.004-05:00

This Thursday we celebrate the Day of Epiphany – a set Christian holiday that remembers an actual epiphany had by a few wise men (kings?) from a far off land about the birth of our savior.

What I find peculiar about this story is the way in which the Magi find baby Jesus. They travel from afar to walk across the Jordanian desert. They caravan after viewing a star in the sky. They bring their most expensive gifts, pay homage to the baby king, and then leave. Am I the only one that thinks these wise men are going overboard following what they consider to be an encounter with the holy?

Regardless, what I love about this story is it carries the majesty of an appointed epiphany.

Webster defines epiphany as a “Sudden Realization.” The Magi suddenly realize the interplay between God and the world. They suddenly realize their need for a savior. They suddenly realize the king of all kings is being born in Bethlehem’s barns.

This is a detail we need to see. The story of our savior begins with an appointed epiphany. Your Christian story begins with one too. You suddenly realize the nature of God and your relationship to the world. You suddenly realize your need for a king and kingdom. Your sudden realizations are just like the epiphanies had by the Magi – holy encounters.

I’m learning, though, epiphanies happen a lot, and they come as distinct and individualistic as we are human. The trick when these liminal episodes of change occur is to get lost in them. Allowing them to sweep you up, hold you, affect you, and change you offers an opportunity to encounter the holy.

Encountering the holy is what the Day of Epiphany is about. It is what our salvific narrative is about. It is what our life is about.

May this Thursday you find yourself realizing you too are encountering the holy.

A Heavenly Love

2010-12-22T00:12:00.007-05:00

Christmas is the moment when Jesus breaks through the barriers of sin, doubt, hurt, and guilt to declare with his presence – that God is and forever will be among us.

1 John says that everyone who loves experiences this Jesus, for Jesus is God and God is love.

Every child, murderer, school teacher, convict, secretary, homeless person, drug addict, homosexual, left-handed, left-minded, liberal democrat as well as every right-handed, right-leaning, republican experiences Jesus Christ. Every choir member, single mother with three kids, divorced father who looses parental custody, and widower experiences the birth child. Every Muslim, politician, social worker, farmer, businessman, Israeli, stock broker, hair dresser, and Palestinian experiences God’s surrendered love.

Christmas is all about the incarnation of Jesus.

It’s about heaven breaking in to earth and never leaving, the inauguration of the kingdom, and our lives being redeemed. It’s about love.

Each of us carries the Christmas story in our humanity. The life and times of Jesus remains in the life and times of all people. For anyone who loves, anyone who celebrates joy this holiday season, experiences the importance of the incarnation. They experience the Christ child. They encounter God.

For it is in Jesus’ birth that a life-giving power is released to the entire world. Jesus Christ unlocks our ability to love. And this truth is a truth in which no language or legend seems extravagant enough to fully grasp.

A Heavenly Joy

2010-12-13T20:35:00.004-05:00

When I was in Ecuador there was limited electricity where we were. It gets so dark there that you literally can’t see your hand in front of your face. There aren’t houses that cast lights from windows, or street lamps on the corners of the road. There is just blackness. So I carried a head lamp to go walk about after dark. That light was a light that outshined the darkness. It laid a path for me to tread. I loved that headlamp. But it only shined about fifteen feet. So I had no clue what lied beyond me at sixteen feet. I learned quite quickly, even with a light, the darkness is a scary place.

When we find ourselves in dark nights – nights of the soul and nights in life – the light of God helps, but our minds still hold the capacity to convince us that we still are not safe.

Think about it, when a person loses a loved one to cancer, a car wreck, gang related violence – holding on to the light is good but it doesn't speak to the situation at hand. Darkness is still all around.

Or what about when you can’t pay rent? You work two jobs but you can’t pay off debt. Sure we need a light that outshines the darkness but we still are in the dark.

How about depression? How about having a miscarriage? Or having a stillborn baby? How about getting laid off from your job or not being able to make ends meet? How about knowing your kids can’t come home for Christmas or that loved ones are getting a divorce?

Everyday innocent people die from preventable diseases like malaria. Everyday little boys and little girls get sold into slavery thinking they are going to come to America and earn an honest living? Global poverty, cancer, preventable diseases, human trafficking, environmental degradation, health related illnesses, family issues, and personal depression make you realize the darkness is real and it is thick.

My point is there are moments in life when we need something to speak directly to our situation. We need a Savior that shines a light further than fifteen feet. We need a Lord. We need something we can be rescued by . . . we need joy.

I’m reminded of a night when a young lady felt the sting of that darkness we’re talking about. She needed help. She was in pain. Her husband was doing all he could to help but he needed more than what he had to give. Struggling to go from place to place, slow and not so steady the young couple trudged on until they found their help. An old farmer saw the need in their eyes and offered them what he had to give. “I don’t have any room in the inn,” he says, “but you can use my barn. It’s quiet there.”

Mary and Joseph, the night Jesus was born, needed rescuing. They needed God. And when they needed God the most, they found what they were looking for.

All of us experience dark nights of the soul. But we experience joyful ones too. God’s light may not outshine all the darkness immediately, but it does get us to morning. Nights that suffocate us with the reality that life is hard must be met with the faith that we worship a God who hates this darkness. We must believe that God is constantly shining more light into our life. This light for me . . . is why in Advent we reflect on the meaning of joy.

Joy is the surprising reality that no matter how dark it gets, there is always more light to shine.

Being Peace

2010-12-08T23:39:00.000-05:00

Human perception embraces ideas about reality. The key word here is idea.

People see a water bottle and then construct a reality about the essence of what the water bottle should be. The problem, however, is that people’s perception is not always correct.

To illustrate this point, Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh tells a story of a man who crashes and almost sinks his boat by being run into by another boat. The man becomes furious at the other driver until he realizes there is no one in the other boat. The man then stops being angry and laughs at his misfortune.

This story illustrates humanity’s inevitability to misperceive reality.

Misperception garners hatred and severs peaceful relationships. It is what leads humans to hating one another instead of being peace to one another. Misperception is a serious reason for violence. It qualifies misunderstanding which creates room for anger – and anger is the doorpost that leads to violence.

The answer for avoiding misperception is beginning in on a quest towards wholeness. For Nhat Hanh this is known as Buddha; and you obtain wholeness when you learn the art of mediation or reflection.

Meditation, though, confuses Christians (at least white, Southern Christians in America). It is believed to be (I realize this is going to be an overgeneralization) an anti-Christian practice that calls on demons or idealizes the sinful self when it should be focusing on being forgiven. The old Southern guard says that Christianity is a one-time-decision, save-your-soul kind of faith. You do not need to grow, mediate, or be on a quest if you have already secured your place in heaven. In addition, it was believed that pretending you can connect with some higher form of self is blasphemy.

A few months ago Al Mohler, president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, wrote an article pleading Christians to stop participating in yoga for it is an unorthodox, pagan practice. The reasons given for not participating in yoga were to keep good-minded, soul-searching Christians from practicing meditation.

I find this to be foolish and a direct example to Nhat Hanh’s description of misperception. Even today we good-minded, bible-believing Christians still misperceive, misunderstand, get angry at, and create strands of separation which is, according to Nhat Hanh, the leading cause of violence.

Nhat Hanh offers a solution for us to move beyond the borders of misperception. He suggests we can be peaceful to one another if we learn to understand one another. But in order to understand one another we must first understand our own true selves, our own sufferings, and our own perceptions. We must first meditate.

Christians can learn a lot from the art of meditating. If everyone began an inward journey to the heart, a quest towards wholeness, then violence would begin to subside. People would begin to smile. Life would begin to be enjoyed. For Buddhist this is called Dharma. For Christians it is allowing the spirit of the triune God to actually play a role in an individual’s life as well as in this world.

But who would want that?

A Heavenly Peace

2010-12-03T10:57:00.004-05:00

In John 20 Thomas is blinded by his search for communion. He needs wholeness. He needs care. He needs to know what he is supposed to live for now – since Jesus abandoned him. And in the midst of this ontological anxiety, Thomas meets the resurrected Jesus who breathes the breath of the Holy Spirit on him and says, “Peace be with you.”

I believe it is in the midst of our crises God meets us in this same way.

God’s presence in our lives is a holy moment, a thin space of divinity, where we feel God reconnecting, reuniting, and re-communing with us.

It’s where the Holy Spirit is saying to us, “Peace – be still.” So if you feel alone, please know that God is trying to re-commune with you.

But I know our fear of abandonment and rejection is so intense that our search for communion is often replaced by a longing for concrete expressions of friendship or affection. We want deep communion, but we end up looking for invitations, letters, phone calls, gifts, and worldly gestures. When communion does not come in the way we wish, we start distrusting even our deep desire for it.

But you can’t let this happen. Communion is our authentic desire, and it will be given to us. But we have to dare to believe. As Jesus says, “Blessed are those who believe and have not yet seen.”

Those people are us. We are the ones who have not yet seen. And it is through the Holy Spirit that we find peace in the midst of chaos, order in the midst of strife, hope in the midst of loss, life in the midst of death, fulfillment in the midst of emptiness, and communion in the midst of loneliness.

It is with the gift of the Holy Spirit that we can face this world and proclaim that for those who believe in Jesus power is given to commune with God; comfort is given in the midst of strife; grace is given when it should be stricken, and peace is found in the thin spaces of divinity that intersect our lives.

Whether we choose to believe in it or not, God is right in front of us breathing on us the breath of peace. Just as Jesus breathed the Spirit into the Upper Room in the Gospel of John, so too does God breathe the Spirit of peace on us.

May we this holiday season realize the peace that comes when communing with God. May we move towards that communion. May we experience a Heavenly Peace.

A Heavenly Hope

2010-11-28T16:49:00.005-05:00

As Christians we have the joy and responsibility this Advent season to take that which we were made for (heaven) to all that we meet. We get to bring heaven to those who need it.

This, however, is very hard for us because we are not trained to think of heaven. Instead, we think about Sunday afternoon naps, football, buying new electronics on Black Friday, watching the sunrise with a blanket and a cup of Joe, or eating ice cream on the beach. But heaven, well that is strange for us to think about. I guess it is because we are so removed from the notion that Jesus might actually come back – we look to meet our needs elsewhere.

If Matthew 24:36 tells us anything . . . it tells us that we as Christians should be the most concerned about heaven. For it could appear in its entirety any day.

Yet this is the problem with Western Christianity. We’ve lost sight of heaven. We don’t think about it. We don’t treat our days with the abandonment it deserves. We don’t appreciate Advent. We don’t take Jesus on his word and actually expect heaven to come to us – even though it does.

So how do we fix this?

My answer is that Christians must reclaim what it means to hope.

Christian hope is hope in Christ, hope in the return of Christ, and the need for another life. It’s a hope in heaven. Christianity does not exist without this hope.

Hope is why we usher in a kingdom. It’s why we care about partnering with God in the ongoing creation of the world. Hope is what we must carry for we don’t know when the world will end, when Jesus will come back, or when ultimate healing wins.

We don’t know the time.

So in the meantime . . . we hope. We participate. We bring heaven into the world. We give shoeboxes full of gifts. We support nonprofits. We encourage those who save women from sex trafficking or those caring about the affects Malaria has on Sub-Saharan Africa.

We go to church. We sing hymns. We read the Bible.

We pray. We love. We worship.

We tell others about Jesus.

We act as Christians should in a fallen, broken world.

We glorify.

We care.

We hope.

And it’s the hope we have in heaven that allows us to partner with God.

Two Futures Project

2010-11-19T11:29:00.003-05:00

Over the past semester I have been consumed with different voices of nonviolence. This past month I came across an advocacy group known as Two Futures Project. Their mission is to stop the spread of nuclear weapons and to get states to disarm the current ones. Their website is http://twofuturesproject.org/. Here is a synopsis from their website on why it is important for Christians to care about the non-proliferation of nuclear weapons:

There are an estimated 20,000 nuclear weapons in the world today. Russia and the United States of America share roughly 95% of them. The United Kingdom, France, and China have several hundred while Israel, India and Pakistan come in a close third. North Korea is next with a handful of nuclear weapons and about three dozen countries have adequate, manufacturing facilities. In short, planet Earth is full of pointed bombs that contain life-altering, world-ending power.

A nuclear bomb is relatively small by modern measurements. But its size has nothing on the amount of destruction that befalls wherever it is detonated.

As a matter of fact, when detonation occurs, an immediate fireball bursts into time and space. A surface area covering approximately one square-mile explodes on the scene and vaporizes every living organism in its path. A three mile blast shoots out a gale-force wind full of massive firestorms leveling buildings and destroying whatever life was not vaporized. Life in the four square miles from ground zero has a one hundred percent fatality rate. Tyler Wiggs-Stevenson, founder and director of Two Worlds Project, artistically imagines this scene as, “. . . the devil grounding his cigar into the face of the earth.”

And this is not the worst of it. For another 320 square miles radioactive dust rises and rains death on whatever gets in her way. Life becomes uninhabitable in this circle of death for at least a generation. Tens of thousands die within twenty-four hours, 150,000 survivors, are in immediate need of medical attention.

Unfortunately, the hospitals, medical infrastructures, and nurses closest to ground zero are destroyed. Unaffected hospitals are doomed to collapse under the weight of human foot traffic and lack of medical supplies for the agony, misery, and pain of the afflicted. Approximately six million people escape the rain storms to become domestic refugees. Major urban centers see a dramatic exodus for fear of a second attack. Chaos and terror become the social norms. Violence waits patiently as society’s fears determine the government’s next course of action.

Even if a family is not affected directly by the blast, it surely will experience suffering after the massive financial fallout. Researchers estimate these cataclysmic circumstances cost over one trillion dollars in direct damages. Stock markets worldwide nosedive. Wiggs-Stevenson rightfully interjects by asking, “How could investors rationally have confidence in a world where cities can vanquish in an instant?”

This financial side-effect carries the potential for world-wide collapse in free market stability which forces an economic depression of staunch magnitude. And yet this is still not the worst of it.

The biggest problem, according to Wiggs-Stevenson, is that nobody knows whether or where another bomb might be. Psychologically, this fear causes a ripple effect. Airports and seaports shut down for fear of attack. International trade slows down. Businesses become bankrupt due to an economic standstill. Store shelves and gas stations close shop after a panicked nation conducts a frantic food and supplies drive. Big businesses like Target and Wal-Mart, who depend exponentially on the global supply chain, go bankrupt. And all of this occurs because of the detonation of one average-sized bomb. There are still over 20,000 more to be deployed worldwide.

Another disastrous ripple lands in the social sector of the world. The percentages of people who depend on governmental assistance, who hover in the margins of society’s mind, lose their support. Wiggs-Stevenson declares, “The charitable sector, encompassing everything that Christians care about – poverty, relief, women’s and children’s rights, immigration reform, AIDS treatment, clean water, genocide prevention, creation care, you name it – simply vanishes.” Nothing matters to anyone except the detonation of another bomb. This xenophobia consumes governments worldwide and becomes the best advocate to social injustice in modern times. You can just imagine the cruelty of crimes and multiplicity of “uncaring eyes” from society to society as each does what it must to seek survival. And this is the world 2FP is trying to avoid.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

2010-11-10T10:23:00.002-05:00

In the late 1300s Geoffrey Chaucer coined the phrase, “All good things must come to an end.” This phrase means more to me right now than it ever has before.

This week is my last week as pastor at Union Baptist Church in Pine Mountain, Georgia. Out of all my accomplishments, opportunities, and memories, pastoring UBC has been one of, if not, the best.

For three years I have traveled alongside this community of grace through celebrations such as birthday parties, weddings, worship services, homecomings, Fall Festivals, baptisms, and so much more. I have also traveled alongside more sincere moments of pain, tragedy, and anguish; for I have counseled families through deaths, hardships, work-related problems, spirit-related inquiries, sadness, depression, anger, surgeries, confusion, and even wonderment.

Collectively, these shared stories, these real and emotionally significant memories, have shaped who I am and how I see myself in the world.

This decision to leave UBC does not come lightly or irreverently (quite the opposite actually). It comes with a heavy heart for the relationships changing and with a faithful heart that the next step is going to be a step worth taking.

Life seems to be full of these liminal moments doesn’t it? We all find ourselves staring into the thin space of transition . . .

the threshold of consciousness . . .

the place between hither and yon . . .

the in-between space . . .

. . . and wondering if we have made the right decision and/or if God is going to be equally as present as before.

Well, I am there now. I’m holding tightly to the hope that my faith is in a God who makes all things new.

As I begin my transition from UBC to this new season of life, I will carry with me cherished memories, beautiful faces, kingdom of God moments, spiritually-led worship services, a better understanding of how church works, a clearer depiction of my theology, a handful of mediocre sermons, a sincere love for the people of God, church, and the Christian calendar. I will carry with me feelings of how I wish I could have done better, feelings of inadequacy for leaving a wonderful community of grace, and a faith that points clearer into the future because of such a positive experience in the past.

I will forever remember and love the people of Union Baptist Church.

No Mercy

2010-11-03T16:01:00.005-04:00

It was my junior year at Belmont. All of us baseball players just got out of practice and were coming out of the locker rooms when we decided to go into the basketball arena to watch the Atlantic Sun Women’s Volleyball Tournament. Belmont was hosting the tourney and we knew that our girls were playing.

We walked in and sat right on the floor. I noticed that Belmont was up and it was game point in the third game (best out of five) and Belmont had taken the first two games. This meant that the upcoming point was match point, and the opposing team was serving. And a time-out was called on the court.

I found a roster for both teams lying on the ground; I picked it up and began to look over the names for the opposing team. I found who I was looking for.

Somebody’s precious little daughter was serving. And she was a senior. I realized at that moment if this little sweetheart loses this point the match and her career are both over.

A hush fell over the crowd as the sweet little daughter toed the line. She breathed deeply and calmly and became poised to move the game to yet one more point.

Simultaneously I stood in my seat and belted, “Don’t choke; this will be the last serve you ever serve for your entire life!”

I’m now the anthropomorphic manifestation of evil for this girl!

She hits the ball into the net; Belmont wins the match.

Her career – over.

Her memories of college athletics – tainted as my face screaming in celebration at her misfortune sears into her brain.

For me . . . this girl was outside the realm of my mercy.

Why is it so ingrained in human nature to want to be unmerciful? Why is it so easy for us to draw lines in the sand, push people away, vote people in and out, choose who we will save and who we will damn?

We see this all the time. The Republicans have regained enough seats in the House . . . the Democrats are now damned. Muslims are moving from the East to West to live in our free country and we crucify them with our tongues as we pretend to think that racism is dead in the South. Need we even say the word “homosexuality” or phrase “gay marriage”? They haven’t been accepted in Baptist life yet.

We find things that are different, disturbing, or other and we vote it out, disenfranchise it, segregate with it, and damn it. And then we turn right around and justify to ourselves that we are godly, good-natured, and righteous by how we live. And I do it too.

Loving our neighbors is a big deal. I wonder why we don’t think about it more?

Still Imagining Redemption

2010-10-30T22:14:00.001-04:00

One day in college (I remember this vividly) I was overcome with sins of the world and sins of my flesh. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I found myself weeping on my knees on the floor of my freshman dorm. With a tearful prayer I looked up to God and said, “I can’t keep living this way. I need you. I want you.” I can’t adequately express to you the rush of emotion I felt at that moment, but in not enough words, I felt as if something that was holding me down was released. I felt forgiven. I felt redeemed.

Is this redemption? Does God intersect with humanity on a spiritual, interior level?

Over eight months ago one of the most horrific natural disasters occurred in my lifetime. Haiti was hit by a devastating earthquake and then another demoralizing aftershock. Hundreds of thousands of people killed. Thousands of people injured. Houses blown down. Capital city and governmental buildings destroyed. People smashed under rubble. It’s horrifying from every angle.

What are we to expect God to do redemptively here? How do we imagine redemption? Is the best we can do as Christians is to sit by and wait for God to make us feel better on the floor of our dorm room? Or should we expect more from our God? Should God act concretely in concrete circumstances?

Is our God big enough to redeem Haiti? Is our God big enough to affect change? Is our God big enough to act in a way in history where the Kingdom of God becomes evident, visible, and obtainable?

My theological and pastoral answer is . . . Yes.

The bible tells us that God very much is big enough, capable enough, strong enough, loving enough, gracious enough, merciful enough, and thoughtful enough. If your God isn’t . . . then your God is too small.

The church is called to be the body of Christ in the world. We are to imitate Jesus. We can’t redeem (why else would we need a Redeemer) but we can strengthen redemptive moments and partner with God to help restore relationships. But Jesus did come to our world to give sight to the blind, to set captives free, to bring good news to the poor. He came to do ministry – not just preach it or experience it. He helps neighbors in need. He loves and cherishes all life. He chooses life over death, good over evil and justice over oppression. And we can too.

I believe if Jesus were here today he would find himself in Haiti helping rescue babies. He would find himself in Afghanistan promoting peace. He would find himself in Uganda stopping the spread of malaria. He would find himself in Atlanta shutting down sex trafficking parlors. Jesus would find himself in West Point, GA taking care of the needy, the sick, and the poor.

Redemption is happening. It happens on spiritual (interior) and physical (exterior) levels. But it doesn’t happen over night. Redemption, like most anything, happens over time. God is moving in this world and if we want to see it more clearly then the church must start moving too.

Imagining Redemption

2010-10-23T11:01:00.001-04:00

David Kelsey, Professor of Theology at Yale Divinity School, asks a very simple, yet tormentingly powerful question: What earthly difference can Jesus make here?

I’m in my eighth year of higher theological education; attempting to complete my third degree that carries theological weight; I’ve been ordained by and am pastoring a community of grace and together we help each other discern how to partner with God in the ongoing creation of the world. We claim our allegiance to a king and to a kingdom. We sing and pray to the God of the Universe. We pray intercessory prayers expecting this God to affect us, move us, change us, encourage us, sit with us, help us, and love us. Our theology is biblical. Our effort is true. Yet at the core of who I am . . . the center of my being I keep asking the question: What earthly difference can Jesus make here?

I think about the woman who found out her husband (the man who was supposed to be her best friend and confidant) cheating on her with another woman and having a separate family simultaneously. What earthly difference can Jesus make there, in that situation, for that family? What about the children in the second family who didn’t know their father had a separate wife? What difference does Jesus make with those precious girls lives?

Or how about the family that who lost electricity last night because the father keeps lying about money and not telling his family that last month he lost his job? What earthly difference can Jesus make there . . . for that family?

What about the community that was hit by a typhoon and lost the town square, business buildings, electricity, and even hope for a future? What earthly difference can Jesus make there?

What about anti-gay bullying and the families of the boys and girls who killed themselves because of the incessant teasing and bullying over sexual identity or because of scandalous pictures being texted or ‘sexted’ across phones? What earthly difference can Jesus make in these situations?

What about the flood in Pakistan? What about the children still traumatized in Haiti? What about a country that still feels threatened that the US military is going to kill them? What about the high school shootings? What about the evil we see every day? What about poverty? What about the millions that die from preventable diseases? What the children that never meet there dad because he died in an unjust war? What about the debt that befell you from a dying parent? What about the terrible illness you’ve had to endure? What about your family struggles? What about your pornography addiction? What about your personal burdens? Your pains? Your struggles?

What earthly difference can Jesus make here . . . now . . . for us?

My words say that God intervenes in our lives. My soul believes that God is among us, present, holy, authentic, vibrant, and immanent. My theology says that redemption happens in a concrete way in a concrete circumstance. God redeems on a level where we can see it, feel it, touch it, experience it, have it, hold it, accept it, own it, believe in it, relish in it, participate in it, strengthen it, and partner with it. Redemption, for me, occurs daily. But am I wrong? God is a God who makes all things new – right?

Is this just wishful thinking?

What earthly difference can Jesus make now? How do you imagine redemption?

A Pursued Hope

2010-10-16T14:11:00.004-04:00

Here she is pleading before the heartless, faithless judge . . . widowed, alone, and in desperate need for help. In the Levitical Law, communities are supposed to rally around widows and help support them, vindicate them. The early church is supposed to allow widows to live in the courtyards and buildings of the sanctuaries and use tithing to purchase food, water, and daily goods. But our widow in Luke 18 isn’t getting any of these things. The religious community doesn’t recognize her humanity, and she’s just unfortunate enough to be in the one town where the judge hates God and couldn’t care less for the vitality of humanity.

In other words, our widowed woman needs help, needs relief, needs God.

It’s almost unimaginable to be where this widow is. She has no husband. No family. No money. No land. No future. No promise. No life. Her faith tells her she has rights to her basic needs. But those have been stricken from her too. And God seems nowhere to be found.

What would you do when what you need is to know God cares – but you don’t get any response? The most theological answer I can give just so happens to be articulated best by Dr. Seuss.

On you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.

You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.

And will you succeed? Yes! You will, indeed! (98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.) Kid, you’ll move mountains!

So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So…get on your way!

What I love about Dr. Seuss and what I love about the story of the widower is the extreme need for hope. Dr. Seuss hopes that if you keep moving forward you will find yourself and God in the world and you will be able to move mountains. Now Dr. Seuss doesn’t really know this. He just hopes that it’s true. The widowed woman has the same hope that if she never gives up pursuing justice than one day she will find it.

This is the hope we must cling to. This is the hope that carries our faith forward. This is the hope that allows us to wake up each and every day ready to partner with a God that creates, redeems and makes things new. This is the hope that stops poverty in the world. This is the hope that revolutionizes lives. This is the hope that allows us to get unstuck. This it he hope that tears down walls of racism, segregation, and pain. This is the hope that stops wars. This is the hope that says after this life is another more beautiful life. This is the hope of Christianity. This is the hope Jesus offers us. This is the hope we must carry today.

God is present in our waiting, and God wants us to never stop pursuing.

Christianity, Yoga, Prayer and the Whole Darn Thing

2010-10-07T15:19:00.006-04:00

This week the Associated Press released an article stating that a Southern Baptist leader does not believe Yoga reflects anything Christian.

Here is the link:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20101007/ap_on_re/us_rel_southern_baptists_yoga

I am not interested in arguing with this article but rather raising a point of interest.

How could anything that helps authentically channel you towards the divine be unChristian? And why is it bad to use outside religious forms of meditation to help enhance our experience with the Holy? When did Christianity put parameters on prayer? When did adjusting into a downward dog become a religious, yet anti-Christian, practice?

I submit that it is not. Yoga - although not created to be a Christian, spiritual practice - can be an incredible catalyst in helping one center their heart, mind, body, and soul in order to focus more intently upon God.

Engaging in Yoga does not mean you are anti-Christian. It means you are stretching.

Yoga can be an awesome tool to help one experience silence and meditation. And if I'm not mistaken God comes to us not in the storms but rather in the stillness of the wind.

I argue that the majority of people live on the circumference of their lives. They peer outward into the world never focusing on their core selves and constantly pushing away from their center. This belief saddens me because it means the majority of us live shallow lives and avoid tapping in to our deeper, truer selves.

Christians must stop being afraid of meditation. It is an extremely helpful practice that allows all of us a chance to tap into the thin space of holiness that speaks out to us from our core, true selves.

It keeps us in touch with the Holy Spirit.

With ourselves.

And with God.

Yoga is not the only option for meditation - but it is a legitimate one.

To the One We Call "Other"

2010-09-24T00:03:00.003-04:00

We’ve all seen this man. He sits on street corners and uses newspapers for insulation. He sleeps under the bridge to stay out of the way of the wind and the rain. He stands on the off-ramps holding a sign. He’s a nuisance. He’s going to ask for money.

He has sores.

He’s unkempt.

He’s dangerous.

He’s other.

What if he tries to attack me? What if he wants my car? What if I talk to him but I can’t help? What if I realize he’s crazy? What if he smells? What if he touches me? What if he sees me looking? What if he sees me turn away? What if he hears my car door lock? What if . . .

In Atlanta alone there are over 50,000 men like this. They sleep where they can stay warm. They eat what’s available. They are poor. They are dirty. They have sores.

But they are also someone’s brother. Someone’s son. Someone’s friend from second grade. They have a favorite color and a memory of childhood they never seem to forget that only makes them laugh when remembered. They have stories of their first kiss and their extra base hit in the bottom of the seventh in the championship game. They have passions and they have regrets. They weep when they are sad and they laugh when someone looks them in the eye and sees them for the beloved child they are – instead of the ‘dirty other’ they’ve become.

Spiritually speaking, that person is you and that person is me. We too know what it is like to be the distained and rejected. We know the pains of life and the toils of our sins. We know sin casts us out and make us feel alone and worthless. That's why we dedicated our life to Christ.

Spiritually speaking, we are all this man. We all are dirty and need something outside of us to bring healing.

Physically, though . . . physically, we are never this man. This man is always – the other.

To this man I would like to say, “I’m sorry. You are a beloved child of God and your life is as sacred as mine. May I learn humility to the point where I can look at you and see the God I love, the God I serve, the God I choose to dedicate my life to, in the face smiling back at me . . .”

Shrewd Christianity

2010-09-19T23:41:00.004-04:00

Luke 13 is a parable that penetrates the Christian hearts of past generations and surely will for ones to come. It carries with it an alluring application. It is truth, but it is truth that is masked in the social dimensions of first century Palestine.

Once upon a time there was a rich man who had a dishonest, household slave (i.e. Luke 16:1-13; it’s worth reading).

The landowner finds his manager has done shady business deals but instead of becoming inflamed and firing him on the spot while demanding reimbursement, the shrewd landowner commends his servant for a job well done.

Scripture concludes our story by saying:
And I tell you, make friend for yourselves by means of dishonest wealth so that when it is gone, they may welcome you into the eternal homes. (Luke 13:16, NRSV)

What?!?! How is this parable in the Bible?

Keep in mind Jesus is talking to the disciples only. Jesus himself is being quite shrewd by telling his disciples that true living; true followership must be done with a little bit of shrewdness . . . with craft, with creativity.

In our story, the landowner praises his manager for finding a creative way to continue building friendships with the community at large. In other words, the manager (disciples, Israel, the Church, followers of Christ) can be useful once again, but they are going to have to call on the aid of others in order for God to feel satisfied -- so God doesn't fire us too.

What does all of this mean for us?

Jesus in this parable indicates that if we are facing a major crisis the answer is rather to throw caution to the winds, to forget the extra bits and pieces of law and ritual, and to make friends as where we can. That’s what the children of this world would do, and the children of light must do as well. They must learn from the cunning people of the world how to cope in the crisis that was coming upon their generation.

Thus, instead of hoarding money and land, Jesus’ advice is to use it, as far as one can to make friends.

For instance, denominational allegiances are good to a point, but when it comes to advancing the kingdom of God for the common good then denominational lines must be secondary. When it comes to promoting peace and justice to the world at large, religions themselves must be reduced to their irreducible minimums if there is to be any hope of progress. In other words, Muslims, Hindus, Mormons, and Christians can come together for the good of humankind.

Jesus is taking Old Testament storylines and reinterpreting them in his own context. We as 21st century Christians must do the same. We have to be shrewd in the sense that we are willing to go outside our biblical bubble to help bring justice and peace to the ones in the world who are being hurt, to the ones in the world that are too poor to climb out of their debt, to the ones in the world that feel disenfranchised, hurt, and marginalized by society.

We must find creative ways to promote justice and peace to all types of races, colors, sexualities, and nationalities. If we are going to be children of the light then we must make friends with the children of the world to help promote that which Jesus came to promote – love of neighbor, love of God, and peace to all people.

Jesus knew if the disciples were going to advance Christianity to all nations then they must first be willing to make friends and not enemies with the nations.

This is still true for us today. If we are ever going to be an active, Christian voice in our communities and world at large, then we must first be people of creativity and peace – not judgmental Pharisees who hold too tightly to a law. We must be shrewd Christians.

Lost and Found

2010-09-15T18:30:00.000-04:00

Sometimes one person’s celebration can be really annoying for you, especially if you don’t understand the reason for the party.

And this was the case for the Pharisees and Scribes in Luke 15.

The three parables, lost sheep, lost coin, and prodigal son, are told because Jesus is making a habit of having parties with all the ‘wrong’ people, and some thought it was a nightmare.

Throughout Luke 15 we witness how Jesus responds to “the least of these” and, perhaps, how we should too.

At the heart of the trouble is the character of the people Jesus is eating with on a regular basis. The tax-collectors are disliked not just because they are tax-collectors – nobody much likes them in any culture – but because they are collecting money for either Herod or the Romans, or both, and nobody cared for them at all. And if they are in regular contact with the Gentiles, some might have considered them unclean. Sinners are disliked because they are considered to be unclean. (N.T. Wright)

In the stories of the sheep and the coin, the punch line in each case depends on the Jewish belief that the two halves of God’s creation, heaven and earth, were meant to fit together and be in harmony with each other. If you discover what’s going on in heaven, you’ll discover how things were meant to be on earth. That, after all, is the point of praying that God’s kingdom will come ‘on earth as in heavens.” As far as the legal experts and Pharisees were concerned, the closet you could get to heaven was in the Temple; the Temple required strict purity from the priests; and the closet that non-priests could get to copying heaven was to maintain a similarly strict purity in every aspect of life. But now Jesus was declaring that heaven was having a great, noisy party every time a single sinner saw the light and began to follow God’s way. If earth-dwellers wanted to copy the life of heaven, they’d have a party, too. That’s what Jesus as doing – throwing a party!

But throughout the chapter Jesus is NOT saying, “Because I am eating with these people, they are fit to live their lives however they choose.” No. Sinners must still repent. The lost sheep and lost coin are found. The prodigal son comes to his senses and returns home. But Jesus has a different idea than his critics of what repentance means. For the Pharisees and scribes, nothing short of adopting their standards of purity and law-observance would do. For Jesus, when people follow him and his way, that is true repentance.

The point of the parables is then clear. This is why there’s a party going on: all heaven is having a party, the angles are joining in, and if we don’t have one as well we’ll be out of tune with God’s reality. (N.T. Wright, Luke for Everyone)

Community - Messy yet Lovely

2010-09-01T14:24:00.003-04:00

Humanity, to me, is made in the image of God yet is sinful but renewed in Christ.

Being created in the image of God means humans find identity in each other. To take it even further (since I am a Christian), I believe there is a connection made among all humans who seek identity in Christ to be in community with one another in mutual love. Anthropology, therefore, carries with it a significant sociological function. To be fully human is to bear the image of Christ in community.

But I also believe the world carries with it an ontological anxiety that comes from a sense of fallenness and an utter sense of lack. Rene Girard, a philosophical anthropologist, calls this sense of lack the Mimetic Desire. He argues that because of humanity’s fundamental lack we are all forced to settle for cheap imitations of fulfillment.

Communities (although they attempt to be Christlike) are formed around cheap fulfillment options and inevitably developed charged emotions against other communities. Violence ensues and a scapegoat is created in order to stop the violence. Girard argues this process is how human civilizations revolve.

When I was twenty-three years old, I was hired to be the camp pastor for LifeWay’s Mission-Fuge International team just outside of Quito, Ecuador. While there, I preached one sermon on the necessity of Jesus’ resurrection and another on gender inclusivity. After the sermons I was met with sincere opposition. The theological insights I developed through academia and personal spirituality were trumped by the more conservative beliefs of the Southern Baptist leaders present at the camp. My words were used against me; I was fired, put on an airplane, and sent back to the United States to never work for LifeWay again. Even though this experience left me with tremendous wounds, it helped me see the complexity of the Christian faith and the anthropomorphic capability of clashing communities.

It is no secret that within the Baptist world the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and Southern Baptist Convention have been clashing communities. It is the one area in my life where I still find sincere yet extremely charged negative emotions present. But are these emotions wrong? Should everyone be forced to cohabitate with communities that are different? Maybe. Maybe not.

The formational question we must all seek to answer is,

“In our search for fullness (for Christians – our search to become more like Christ), are we going to intentionally live in community with people that push against our communal theology?”

When our quest for understanding doctrinal beliefs trumps having unconditional, positive regard for everyone then we are answering the formational question with an emphatic "no!" When relationships, however, become our means for desired community then will we see two distinctly different groups (CBF/SBC) living peacefully in community.

Over the past two years, I have walked alongside a church community getting this formational question right. It is a community that accepts their fallenness but embraces the notion that humanity is made in the image of God yet is sinful but renewed in Christ. In this community I have performed weddings, funerals, ordination services, and baptisms. I have been invited into sacred moments of birth and death, walked beside others through surgery, pain, and divorce. I have witnessed people’s faith deepen, strengthen and blossom. I have seen people walk through a metaphorical hell only to find peace and rest in a mysteriously loving and present God on the other side. In short, I have been blessed to be a part of God’s activity in the world. These experiences have painted a vivid description of the nature of God – alive, moving and redeeming all levels of creation at all times – and the sincere messiness of what it takes to actually be in community.

It’s messy.

It’s lovely.

It’s all about relationships – not doctrinal supremacy.

It’s the clearest depiction for me of who God is in this world.

Why Do We Serve?

2010-08-23T13:50:00.002-04:00

Service is offering someone who is need of what it is you have to give.

When I was in high school I was a part of the National Honors Society. To this day I have no idea what that did for me. I know during each summer in high school in order to keep my society status I had to complete ten hours of community service. I would pick up trash around the ball fields, mow for the city – since my best friend’s dad was the mayor – and referee girl’s little league basketball games at their summer camps. Each summer I performed these duties just to keep some arbitrary yet signifying status. And honestly, I hated it. I only did these things to keep my rankings in the National Honor’s Society.

If Christians today aren’t careful we too will fall into a similar pattern I fell into in high school. Doing service projects to keep face, to maintain a reputable status, or to hopefully keep some salvific option open for later in life is at best misguided and truthfully pathetic.

Service . . . mission work . . . helping a neighbor in need . . . should never be done out of a mindset that seeks some eternal reward.

Service is not about pride, entitlement or honor . . . it’s about offering something to someone who is need of what you have to give. And in the process Jesus is introduced to the situation.

This is my biggest worry about my generations’ Christians. Pride and entitlement stand in the way of us actually doing physical acts of service, and for some they are the reason for the service itself.

We have to be a people who move away from pride and entitlement and, instead, move toward being a people who serve because our hearts ache for a world that is suffering.

In the gospel of John we find Peter struggling with this same narcissism. He’s struggling to understand why Jesus would bother him so terribly on what seems to be an easy question to answer. Three times Jesus asks his best friend, “Do you love me.” Three times Peter responds with, “You know I do.” The passage reads almost as if Peter is getting progressively frustrated that so much time and attention is devoted to such a simple answer.

“You know I love you Jesus. You know I support you.”

And Jesus’ response is so vital for us to hear, “If you love me Peter . . . then feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep.”

It’s as if Jesus hears Peter saying, “You know I love you Lord. Too many people know I follow you so I must love you. I have to keep face. It would look terrible if I turned on you now. What would people say? And I guess I do get a lot out of following you.”

Jesus combats this narcissism with a sharp call to service, “If you love me like you say you do, then I’m challenging you to carry my love, my words, my care, my attention to all that you meet. Feed my lambs Peter. Quit worrying about how this affects you and start focusing on the people that need me. I’m glad you’ve gotten something out of our relationship. I’d be worried if you didn’t. But now I’m calling you out. Your salvation is not in question Peter. You don’t have to suck up to me. I want you out there offering my love to all that you meet. I’m challenging you to give what you’ve received to others. Share my love. Share my joy. Share my stories and give out my redemption. Serve Peter. Don’t be like the Pharisees and pretend to be pious. Don’t be like the temple guards and use me for clout. There’s a world out there that is hurting. It’s your turn to show them my love. I offer you this gift. Use it and serve.

I think this speaks to all of us.

The Last Breath of Jesus

2010-08-15T17:53:00.004-04:00

In a tired and almost last breath, Jesus looks up after hours of hanging on the cross and says to Mary and the Beloved disciple, “Woman, here is your son; friend, here is now your mother.”

Seconds before Jesus’ death, the author of the gospel of John has Jesus saying to Mary and the Beloved disciple that they are now family.

Think about it for a moment – after being tortured, flogged, spat upon, head crushed, ribs broken, side punctured, hands nailed, feet smashed, and body bruised – our Lord looks up with the energy of one more breath to say one more thing and it is important, it is direct, it is for us to hear.

And so in that sacred moment Jesus says, “Woman, here is now your son; friend, here is your mother.”

From a social standpoint I will concede that this doesn’t make sense. Maybe if the woman were Jesus’ wife and the man was Jesus’ younger brother we could see such a moment take place with Jesus saying, “Brother, this woman is now your wife.” But that’s not what is happening here. It is not customary for a son to give his mother away to a friend. There is no need for Jesus socially to make this claim.

So there must be more here.

There is a new relationship joining at the foot of the cross. There is fellowship taking place. God is orchestrating a turn in history, a paradigm shift, and it is happening with the dying breath of Jesus Christ. A new family is forging. A new community is forming.

The death (and Resurrection) of our Lord and Savior brings people together from all across the globe to unite under one banner, one accord, one voice, one unshakable and alluring totem.

The last breath of Jesus forged a union, a fellowship, a bond of sisterhood and brotherhood that stretches beyond national borders and even generations. We are now in relation to all people. We are now family with all people. We are sisters and brothers in Christ. The last breath of Jesus pulls humanity together, unites all people under the banner that screams louder now than ever, “We are all God’s people.”

Did the author of John mean for us to interpret God bringing humanity together in the death of Jesus – I’m not sure. I just know I can’t read John 19 without seeing Jesus as the conduit for all humans – everywhere. May we all begin to see how we are all connected through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Grace is God's Refrain

2010-08-09T11:47:00.002-04:00

Just think of what a refrain will do – consider some examples.

Fred Craddock in one of his famous stories reminds us of the old saloon song “Frankie and Johnny.” Listen to the function of the refrain.

Frankie, she was a good woman, and Johnny, he was her hand. He was her man, but he done her wrong. Frankie and Johnny went walking, Johnny wore a new linen suit. ‘Cost me a hundred,’ said Frankie, ‘but don’t my Johnny look cute?’ He was her man, but he done her wrong. Frankie went down to the corner, and she ordered a thimble of gin. She said to the fat bartender, ‘Has my lovin’ Johnny been in?’ He was her man, but he done her wrong. ‘Ain’t gonna tell you no story, ain’t gonna tell you no lie. Johnny was here about an hour ago with a floozy named Nellie Bly’. He was her man, but he done her wrong.

I’m not going to go through the entire song – it’s in the Methodist Hymnal, so you can find the words. The refrain, though, creates anticipation; it builds to the fact itself. Think of the refrain preaching of Martin Luther King, Jr. “I have a dream,” over and over and over until “Let freedom ring!”

In a matter of a few minutes, the speech of one man to a large crowd became the speech of a large crowd to the world. And how is it done? By refrain.

The task of the refrain is to move the burden of the speech away from the speaker and onto the listener so that the listener is in on the secret. It gives the listener a window into a world that is just beyond them.

Grace offers us a window of what eternity looks like. Grace opens our minds and sends our hearts forward with anticipation.

But what is grace?

Frederick Buechner says, “Grace is something you can never get but can only be given. A good sleep is grace and so are good dreams. Most tears are grace. The smell of rain is grace.”

Interestingly, a crucial peculiarity of the Christian faith is the affirmation that people are saved by this grace.

Buechner continues:

The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us. It’s for you I created the universe. I love you.

Good Christians never forget this truth. Good Christians find ways to listen to the refrain of their lives. Because when you do, you find God right beside you whispering, “You are my beloved. In you I am well pleased.”

Grace is God’s refrain for our lives.

It's Our Turn to Walk

2010-08-02T01:32:00.002-04:00

Jesus wants us to walk with God.

I started thinking about this idea of walking and realized over 240 times the Bible either illustrates or commands God’s people to walk.

God walked among us in the Garden of Eden. Enoch in Genesis 5 is said to have walked with God for 300 years. Noah in Genesis 6 walked with God. God commands the Israelites to walk the land of milk and honey. Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph all walked with God. When God parted the Red Sea the Israelites walked out of Egypt.

Time and time again we see an illustration of how God’s people never stop walking. They press forward. They move ahead. They further the story. They further the journey.

Micah 6:8 says that which we must do beyond all other things is “walk humbly.” Leviticus 26:12 has God saying, “I will walk among you and be your God, and you will be my people.”

Even God is in on this action of walking. God walks. We walk. Together we are growing and learning and studying and praying and following and walking and choosing and helping and walking in order to find ourselves – becoming.

Deuteronomy 8 says to impress upon our children: “walk in the ways that revere God.” Samuel chose Saul as king because Samuel’s boys refused to walk in the ways of God. Elijah walked up Mt. Carmel to defeat the worshipers of Baal. David says in Psalm 1, “Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked . . . but rather the righteous.” Again in Psalm 15 David proclaims, “He whose walk is blameless and who does what is righteous . . . speaks truth in his heart.” Psalm 23 says we all walk through the valley of the shadow of death but we can fear no evil for surely goodness and mercy will be with us.

And as we walk we feel the presence of God. We connect with God. We utilize the strength that God gives us as we journey. We listen to God’s directions, God’s footprints, and we follow. We find where God is working and we go there. And when we do, we find that the righteous are there. The humble are there. The hands and feet of Christ are there. Walking is now our calling.

Psalm 86 says if we learn the ways of our Lord we will walk in truth. And that as we walk the word of God will be a lamp unto our feet and a light unto our path. Proverbs reminds us to walk in the ways of justice for that will bring righteousness.

The gospels say Jesus walked the Sea of Galilee. The lame man that Jesus heals in Mark 2 gets up off his mat and walks home. The blind man in Mark 9 gets up and walks home to his parents. The centurion’s daughter whom Jesus raised from dead got up and walked out of the room.

When we walk with Jesus, we see miracles. We see lives changing. We see relationships mending, lives restoring, and bodies resurrecting.

A good, fulfilling Christian life is a life that takes you somewhere. It moves you. It opens you up to a world that otherwise is completely unknown. Its when you find yourself on a journey.

God needs our lives to walk alongside God’s. God needs our lives to progress and grow. God needs us to join in and start journeying. We are the hands and feet, we are the mouthpieces of God. We have the Spirit. It’s our turn to help bring redemption to all we meet. It's our turn to walk.

Growing with a Growth that Comes from God

2010-07-27T22:57:00.002-04:00

"Grow with a growth that is from God." (Col 2:19, NRSV)

I love this phrase. Its a challenge from the author to the Colossian church to never ever stop growing, learning, studying, reading, praying, probing, thinking, interrogating, believing, inquiring, prying, analyzing, questioning, learning, building, and trying.

And coming from a guy who never wants to NOT be in school, it makes sense I would love this portion of the text. But there’s more here than my narcissistic admiration. It’s a call to become more.

Become better.

Become more godly.

More holy.

More spiritual.

Its time for us and Christians all over this world to hear this message: “We must never stop growing with the growth that is from God.”

It’s a common misunderstanding really . . . people believe once they emerge from the rolling waters of the baptismal pool that Christianity, eternity, life and access to all measures of love are somehow miraculously obtained. This is simply not true.

We must be people who never stop growing. We must be a people who see life as an opportunity to learn. Christ, church, scripture, love, prayer, evangelism, missions, and life in general must become our new subjects in school. We can always learn more. Do more. Attempt more.

And why must you do all of this? To have fullness of life.

That’s what this is all about. God wants you to feel whole. To feel loved. To feel as if you have a purpose and a destiny – because you do. Wholeness can be found in a relationship with Jesus Christ.

I’m convinced the leading reason we avoid growing in our faith is because we fear of what may change. Our conventional and methodological normalcy will become altered. And we don’t want that. We fear our routines will shift. And we don’t want that. Our lives will head in a more uncomfortable direction. And we don’t want that.

This fear binds us to the same pew each week never asking questions we know we need to be asking. Never praying prayers we know we need to be praying. Why? Because of where we fear it will lead. What if we do grow in our faith? What will that mean for the current life?

When our faith becomes cold and stale, when we refuse to grow, then we are letting the fear of the unknown take away our quest for wholeness. We settle for the familiar instead of the holy.

The command to grow is not idealistic rhetoric. God wants us to grow. God wants us to mature. It’s not enough to just believe. It’s not enough just to get baptized. We and God are now in a relationship.

A lifestyle.

A commitment.

And for better or for worse or until death do us part – we and God are growing together.

Action vs. Contemplation

2010-07-24T17:01:00.000-04:00

Jesus is resting comfortably in his newly acquired friends’ home. In it is bookoos of people. And as always, people are gleaning as much information from Jesus as humanly possible.

Except Martha.

She’s working. She’s serving. She’s playing the role of host and is on her feet serving drinks, appetizers, entrées, brewing coffee, cleaning up spills, and doing it all with a smile on her face.

Until she sees her sister Mary.

This is Mary’s house too. Martha shouldn’t be the only one breaking her neck for her guests and she knows it. Half of this labor is Mary’s to do. The trash is piling up and the guests are going through cups like babies do with diapers. And there is clearly not going to be enough brochette to serve everyone. And all she can witness is her sister sit out there in the living room as if she were one of the guys.

So in a fit of panic Martha bumps her way to the coffee table, puts down another round of drinks for the boys, and bent over she catches Jesus’ attention and says, “Do you not care that my sister is making me do all of this? Tell her she is supposed to be helping me!”

In all honesty, Martha’s right. Not that it was Mary’s job as a woman to serve the men, I’m not saying that (although as unfortunate as it was, women in first century Palestine served the men), but there is a real problem on our hands.

The guests are too many to serve and the workers are too few.

If I’m completely honest, I’d say I know exactly how Martha feels. I have all of “this” to do and there is simply not enough help. I can’t do it alone. I feel overwhelmed.

And deep down you too know what its like to give all you have to give, never feeling like its enough, always realizing you have to do more. We see this in our jobs, we see this in our families, relationships, and you may even see this as you attempt to parent your kids. We get overwhelmed. We get down. We feel as if the entire world is waiting on us to move faster, work harder, and yet in the midst of it all we find ourselves feeling ashamed, lonely . . . overwhelmed.

When you serve the Lord – in whatever capacity– church community, work communities, etc. you will undoubtedly feel at some point like Martha – underappreciated, understaffed, overworked, lonely, ashamed, and overwhelmed.

So what do you do? Do you stop working? Do you quit? Do you continue on serving the Lord despite the uphill climb?

Luke 10:38-42 helps us with our conundrum. When the work becomes too much and we begin to feel overwhelmed, we are reminded that it is perfectly fine to stop (for however long it takes) being Martha and start being Mary. Feeling overwhelmed happens because of a loss of balance. The best counter is resting at the feet of Jesus. In other words, contemplating.

Action without contemplation, focus, desire, understanding, or love is what causes Martha and perhaps all of us to become overwhelmed.

Human Trafficking Profanes the Holy Name

2010-06-30T12:58:00.005-04:00

Most people argue the Bible says very little about the eradication of slavery. As most of you know, the New Testament can be read as literature that supports the issue of slavery. The most popular text is found in Philemon with Paul giving orders for a slave to return to his slave master. Jesus even uses parables that discuss kings and masters who own slaves. For the longest time, Southern American preachers saw the Bible as the leading defense in the argument for slavery.

But the prophet Amos sees differently. Amos is an eighth century prophet speaking to Israel about how they have fallen away from God’s ordered life. As a matter of fact, Amos condemns Israel for the practice of human trafficking. Amos tells Israel,

This is what the LORD says:
For three sins of Israel,
even for four, I will not turn back {my wrath}.
They sell the righteous for silver,
and the needy for a pair of sandals.
They trample on the heads of the poor
as upon the dust of the ground
and deny justice to the oppressed.
Father and son use the same girl
and so profane my holy name. (Amos 2:6-7, NIV)

Do you see what is happening here? Israel is selling off people for silver and sandals. Israel is selling children for practical goods. This is slave trade. They are selling the poor on the cheap.

And God sees this.

God recognizes this.

God hates this.

God is furious with those who trample their feet on the poor and who sell their children into slavery and goes as far to say the oppressed that are denied justice will soon rise. Evil will be eradicated.

Oh the Bible speaks about slavery. I argue it condemns it. The Minor Prophets like Amos spend the majority of their time complaining about its heinous reality. Amos strictly says, “God will not turn back wrath, for Israel sells the righteous for silver, and the needy for a pair of sandals.” And guess who the needy are: the poor and the young.

This system is known as latifundialization. The ruling elite in a community builds a system of debt slavery. They tax the family farmers and create a system in which farmers can never pay off their debts. They only way to become debt free is either to sell your farm or to sell your children. Debt slavery means you can’t work on your own capital. This is terrible. It dismisses the sanctity of human life.

It is evident in the Book of Amos that God hates this economic model. God has given land to God’s people to be shared, not mistreated. Amos 2 demands readers to think about the relationship between the elite and the poor, for God’s tolerance level for this behavior is zero.

Amos is speaking against debt slavery. Amos condemns this practice. And yet he says more. He tells Israel that because of human trafficking, their worship is impure. Profaning the holy name is not just about holiness laws – you profane the holy name by social injustice. You profane the holy name by selling the poor for sandals. You profane the holy name by tricking children into working in cocoa farms handling pesticides and machetes for little to no pay.

God condemns temple practices due to social injustice. Amos says that because of an unethical lifestyle of Israel’s elite, God has rejected their worship, their sacrifices and their entire religion. God doesn’t want your offerings if you are practicing injustice.

How true is this today? 2800 years later we are still profaning the holy name by facilitating human trafficking, and yet we still show up to church every Sunday morning hoping to be blessed. Amos says God rejects this kind of worship. It puts a sour taste on the lips of God’s mouth. As long as people are being trafficked, worshipers are facilitating social injustices and worship is therefore void.

And the truth is, Israel should know better. Amos 2:10-11 quotes God saying:

I brought you up out of Egypt,
and I led you forty years in the desert
to give you the land of the Amorites.
I also raised up prophets from among your sons
and Nazirites from among your young men.
Is this not true, people of Israel?"
declares the LORD. (Amos 2:10-11, NIV)

Israel should know better. We should know better. This is the theme that goes straight through the book of Amos. God has chosen, rescued and selected Israel in a covenant. God has raised up prophets within their tribes. These prophets call out to the strong that are doing wrong and demand justice.

This is the word we must hear today. God is calling us to know better. How can we knowingly perpetuate the cycle of human trafficking? How can we continually show up on Sunday morning and expect God to bless us here when we are part of the cause out there?

One in Christ . . . really?

2010-06-21T23:57:00.004-04:00

In all probability, as Jesus grew up in Nazareth, he heard his own father and the other men of the synagogue pray every morning,

Praise be God that he has not created me a Gentile. Praise be God that He has not created me a woman. Praise be God that he has not created me a slave or an ignorant man.

This form of thanksgiving was widely used in first century Palestine, and it reflects very clearly the social attitudes of that day. Obviously a free, Jewish male regarded himself as inherently superior to any other form of humanity, and this kind of prejudiced provincialism was the cultural atmosphere in which Jesus began to "live and move and have His being” as a child.

And really, in all respects, you still hear this today. “God thanks for not making me grow up next to a Muslim family. God thanks for not making me like those people down the street. God thanks for letting me have a boy instead of a girl.” The prejudice that Jesus would have heard in the Temple 2000 years ago still creeps into our psyche and everyday discourse.

People judge people. We rank people. We classify job descriptions and parental nationalities as signs of whether or not we’d be a good match for a couple’s outing. We compare the dress of the couple’s children to the types of homes they have and the types of cars they drive. We judge. We classify. We categorize. We label. We intentionally separate ourselves from those who are different, disgusting, or diverse.

So to hear Paul say, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, neither slave nor free, male nor female but we are all one in Christ Jesus” is powerful, it’s daring. It flies in the face of traditional Jewish thought. It usurps the idea that the Jewish nation is the only chosen nation. It creates a new order, a new way, a new paradigm.

But I wonder, do we, today, really mean that all of us are one in Christ Jesus?

To believe we are all one in Christ Jesus is hard. It means creating a new paradigm and shattering the old one. It means upsetting the status quo and sometimes means foregoing the life you were taught to live.

To be one in Christ is to be part of a family that is bigger than race. It is bigger than color. It is bigger and vaster than our paradigms and prejudices allow us to be. To be one in Christ is to share community with everyone we meet. It is to love, support, and truly see the sanctity of all human life. It means the walls of racism, the walls of prejudices come down, tear down, fall down so we can see the value, sacredness, and blessedness of all of God’s people.

To be one in Christ is to be an ‘us’ and not a ‘them.’ It’s to see people as an “us” and not as a “them.” It’s for all who call on the name of the Lord. It’s for anybody and everybody. It is the homosexual, the blue collar farmer, the white color attorney, the transvestite, the single mother, and the eight year old with Down syndrome. To be one in Christ is to look out across the world with the faith that God sees no partiality, but rather love, and that love is available for all. That love is obtainable for all people. That love is accessible to all people. That love signifies that we are all one in the body of Christ. We are one in the bond of love. We are one in Christ Jesus.

And my question is, "Do we really believe this?"

Woundedness

2010-05-25T01:51:00.004-04:00

At Pentecost stand all members of the “Jesus Movement”-- few in number and weak in voice. But out of the clouds come roars of sound and violent winds. Flames of all sizes appear and spread from one Jesus Freak to another. One by one they speak in the languages of every tribe. One by one they get the attention of the people. One by one they talk about God’s power and draw a crowd to hear God’s message.

But not knowing whether to be horrified or astonished, antagonistic pilgrims hold up their hands and shout, “Wait a minute. Aren’t all of you Galileans? How in the world do we hear our native languages being spoken?” Then hostile skeptics in the back shout, “The pilgrims are right. These crazy fools, these disciples are all drunk!”

What’s going on here? The pilgrim crowd is attacking the disciple’s home community. The skeptics are attacking the disciples’ character defects. Both groups are trying to dismiss the validity of the disciples’ message. Imagine you are standing to preach and someone stands to tell you that you are wrong or you aren’t worthy to preach.

As a minister, you get wounded. “People constantly try to hook your wounded self. They point out your needs, your character defects, your limitations, your sins and use them against you. This is how they attempt to dismiss what God, through you, is saying to them.” (H. Nouwen)

Look at Jesus’ followers at Pentecost. Do you think they have lived their lives with no wounds? No! Of course they had’m. They followed their leader for three years and never understood more than half of the things he said. They denied him. Ran from him. Fell asleep on him. Rebuked him. And remained silent because of fear in them. There is not a group more undeserving to inaugurate the spirit than these followers. Yes, they had wounds. Yes they had shortcomings. Yes they had character defects.

As soon as they started speaking people tried to shut them down by dismissing them for who they are and what they are thought to be.

The voices of the crowd are the same voices that attempt to wound us by saying,

You can’t do ministry. You’re a woman – who are you to lead me? You aren’t Southern Baptist! You are homosexual. You’re too Republican! Who are you to lead me? You’re black! You fear technology is hurting the church! You aren’t a Republican! Who are you to lead me? Your seminary’s theology is wrong. You aren’t Calvinistic. You had sex before you were married! Who are you to lead me? Your parents are poor; you voted for Bush, you don’t drink. Who are you to lead me? You think Jesus is the only way to heaven, You have HIV. You believe in a literal Satan. Who are you to lead me?

All of these voices of the crowd are the same voices that speak negatively to us about God’s ability to use us. These voices wound us. They are the voices that handicap our willingness and confuse our vocations.

These voices might as well be saying, “You aren’t worthy to be child of God. Your sins, shortcomings, sexual failures, drunkenness, apathy, licentiousness, loose tongue, pride, and drug addictions are too severe and too poisonous for anyone to ever listen for God through you.

And temptation arises from our shattered egos, insecurities and doubt, to begin believing in “their” definition of us.

Woundedness has a way of making us give up on our calling. If this is you (someone who has given up on your calling due to other's opinion of you), then hear me say:

You are a child of God -- flawed -- but loved nonetheless and you have every right to pursue after God with all you are and to attempt to choose a life that makes you feel whole.

Woundedness doesn't have to be that which handcuffs you; rather, learn to own your woundedness and allow it to transform your ministry as a flawed, forgiven child of God.

Reflections on McAfee

2010-05-19T16:20:00.002-04:00

Seminary may seem like a marathon but it feels like a sprint. For the past three years I have been attending McAfee School of Theology at Mercer University in Atlanta, Georgia. I just finished the semester yesterday and over the next few weeks (probably even years) I will be reflecting on how this experience has changed my life.

McAfee has been a place of affirmation for me.

I came here three years ago with a calling to pastor and McAfee helped me find a church. I came here to deepen my knowledge of faith and practice and McAfee walked beside me as I explored the contours of my faith and Baptist beliefs. I came here with theological assumptions and hunches and McAfee provided me the space and freedom to “work out my own salvation with fear and trembling.” I came here in search of a moderate Baptist community and McAfee made me feel appreciated, valued and loved. For all of these things, I am thankful.

McAfee has been a place of learning for me.

Because of McAfee I know Jesus better. I can better hold the timeline of our faith in my head. I can more confidently sit with the sick and dying. I have a better card catalogue of theologians and theological arguments. I can craft a decent sermon. I can appreciate and respect differing worldviews. I can offer a safe, nonjudgmental space with a better pastoral presence. I know how to better handle church-related issues. I even know and love myself better.

Because of McAfee, I appreciate more than ever before: Kingdom-work, the resurrection, the sanctity of life, the power of the spoken word, and the quest for spirituality.

These thoughts are reminders that God has been involved in my journey of learning at McAfee School of Theology.

My 'Purposefully Different' Sweetheart

2010-04-16T16:09:00.001-04:00

A little over a year ago I became friends with the most purposefully different person I had ever met. She was contagious, and the next thing I knew; she had swept me off my feet and allowed me to love her.

This week marks the one year anniversary for Noelle and me dating.

Without a doubt this past year has been the most precious year of my life. I would love to say it has been easy and there have been zero hiccups – but I can’t. Noelle and I both have strong personalities and strong egos. We see life from a passionate viewpoint and get sad when the world around us doesn’t see life the same we do. Time and time again, we both let each other down.

But despite these moments of sadness and frustration, life with Noelle Spears is a one worth living. She is the most intelligent person I know (and I know a lot of smart people). She is the most radiant person I know as well. The combination of wits and beauty make her a dream come true. I don’t even care that she hates the Tennessee Titans!

I have never met someone that sees life the way she does. She genuinely sees and cares for people who are outcasts or just “different.” In reality, she tells me, that everyone is screwed up, messed up, and a little different. But Noelle doesn’t judge, hate or dismiss the validity of someone’s humanity. Every single person in this world can find space and comfort when sitting next to her. She is arguably the most gracious person I know.

At the same time, you better not mess with any of Noelle’s friends. She is “hard core” when it comes to commitment and friendships. She is the type of girl who would rather have ten close, personal friends than ten thousand people who don’t even know she goes by her middle name. And those ten people will get the best friend they have ever had.

But there is a frailty to Noelle that makes me love her too. She’s fragile in the sense she hurts when people hurt. She cries when people cry. She empathizes with everyone. She has the capacity to see behind your ego, behind your questions, behind your “alpha-male” exterior or even doubt, and peer into your heart. She sees behind the questions and can empathize with you. Noelle’s gentleness and frailty may be her most precious gift to the world.

Noelle also makes me feel as if I’m a better person. Its cliché I know, but she is one of the few people that sees me for the ego and insecurities that I am – and still loves me (I admit she may not be the only person who sees my ego, but she is the only person that I allow to consistently call me out on it).

If you know me well enough, you know I live my life in the external. My heart is on my sleeve, my eyes are looking up, and my goals are always to move the ball down the field. But Noelle has brought me a perspective I don’t think about often - it’s ok to just be still, be present, and be undivided. Some of my favorite days with her are when nothing is due and we just are together – all day.

Noelle is the best person I know. She is committed. Brilliant. Beautiful. Sassy. Colorful. Purposefully Different. And one of a kind. I am thankful for this past year and truly believe forever is not long enough for Noelle to call me hers.

When We Need God the Most

2010-04-12T19:57:00.004-04:00

Without saying a word, Jesus opens his hands and then his shirt to show the scars he wore from the beating he bore three days ago. They were deep and painful. The blood is no longer staining his flesh but the holes are there. You can see through his wrists, and your stomach turns when you see his side.

The stillness of this moment is louder than any sermon preached in history.

Standing before the disciples is a man that dared to bear the deepest wounds in history. He dared to bear the scars left from the shortcomings of humanity. He dared to bear the weight of the world and found himself faithful, capable, worthy.

The scars in Jesus’ flesh are the scars that he bore before becoming our Lord. He didn’t have to but he chose to. They are the scars he took on before eliminating death. They are the scars he accepted so he could proclaim love and not hate; life and not death; blessing and not cursing; a choice over damnation; light over darkness; good over evil; reunion over separation; fulfillment over emptiness; vindication over condemnation; creation over war; and liberation over captivity.

And when you didn’t think the scene could be any more majestic – Jesus speaks: “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And then he breathes the gift of the spirit into the room.

This is one of the greatest moments in all of scripture, Jesus commissions his disciples to carry the message of Jesus to everyone they meet. This is John’s version of the Great Commission.

And Thomas misses it. He isn’t there. The other disciples try to tell him about the gloriousness of Jesus, but Thomas isn’t having any of it. As far as he is concerned, this was one magnificent April Fools prank. He goes as far to say to the disciples, “Unless I touch Jesus, I will not believe.”

Thomas is hurt. He’s hurt at the loss of his friend Jesus who is supposed to be the Savior. God was supposed to intervene in Jesus’ life; he wasn’t supposed to die. Thomas believed this, and now he’s afraid. He hasn’t seen the risen Lord yet. As far as he knows, the Government killed Jesus and he’s next.

Thomas is blinded by his search for communion. He needs wholeness. He needs care. And he’s no longer willing to accept the faith of people who have experienced something he has not.

We are just like Thomas. When we feel hurt, abandoned, alone, oversaturated by life’s worries, hardships, and turmoil, we look out to the world for answers. And most of the time, God out in that world seems too small to help or too distant to care. Other people's experiences are not enough for us. We need our own. So our peace fades, our faith slides, and our hope stops. God no longer plays a part in balancing life’s equations for peace.

All of us reach a point when we realize someone else's faith is not good enough for us. We decide that unless we experience something too we will not believe. If this is you, hear me say, this is a valid feeling.

But if our story tells us anything, it says, “God shows God’s self to us when we need it the most. When we doubt it the most. When we seek it the most.”

Jesus revealed himself to Thomas; and he does us too - every single day.

The Scandal of the Particular

2010-04-06T20:43:00.003-04:00

I’ve never met more of a skeptic than me. I question everything. My usual response to most theories or questionable events is, “I’m not calling you a liar, but I just don’t believe you.” I’m a skeptic.

Recently a blockbuster movie hit the main stage causing interesting discussion and influence – The Book of Eli. Everyone I know loves this movie. Well respected, intelligent people that speak truth and love into my life all love this movie. But I can’t stop questioning it. I can’t stop doubting it. I just don’t believe it could really happen.

Denzel Washington survives a nuclear war and is on a mission to walk from one end of the United States to the other -- because God told him to. He encounters helpers and villains along the way. By the end of the movie he has one last battle to get where he is going.

But there is a humongous twist at the end. So big that it makes me question every single detail about the story. There is no way this twist is right. There is no way this twist could actually happen.

Denzel is blind. He walks across the entire country carrying a book to save the world. And he’s blind! There is no way a blind person can do the fight scenes, the crouching behind a rock to avoid enemy vehicles, or walking into bars and ordering drinks. There is no way this kind of story could have occurred by this kind of character.

And now you can imagine what the disciples in Luke 24:1-12 sounded like when the women came to tell them the good news about the empty tomb.

They doubted. The NRSV says they call Jesus’ resurrection an “idle tale.”

I, and the majority of the people in this world, sound just like the disciples. We think there is no way a story of this magnitude, a human bringing salvation and redemption to the entire world, could actually happen.

This is called the scandal of the particular. This one man. This simple man. This itinerate preacher from a backwoods town in a nothing city proves to be so majestic he alters the course of time forever.

The resurrection is so easy to pick apart. It is so easy to deny. We would say, “We have glamorized the life of this one human who strung a few good years together; and now his body has been stolen.” It’s the scandal of the particular.

And the truth is, there is controversy in the text. Not one person actually sees the resurrection moment. Not one gospel actually has an eyewitness to see the stone roll away. Not one gospel even tells the story the same – how do we know which details are right?

There are wide open avenues for doubt to drive through. It is so easy to question this moment, this event, and the importance of the resurrection. The disciples doubted. They didn’t choose to listen to the women tell them about the angels.

But what interests me is, “Did we really think the gospel story would be easy to believe?”

So what is my response? What do you believe about the resurrection Barrett?

I believe it happened. I believe it is the in-breaking of the kingdom of God and we now have a new order, a new life, and a new kingdom. I believe it is the central greatest moment in all of humanity. But I also believe it is tough to believe.

Each Christian, even human, should choose the path Peter chose in Luke 24. Instead of disbelief, run after the empty tomb as fast as you can and see if you too can find the living Jesus. Peter did this. And it changed his life. I’ve done this. And it changed mine too.

I Can't Stop Thinking, "I'm the Older Brother."

2010-03-23T00:18:00.005-04:00

I can’t stop thinking about how I so often play the role of the older brother in the Prodigal Son parable.

When the prodigal son returns home, the older brother is filled with anger, resentment, and envy. He storms away from the festival unable to celebrate.

I can hear him saying, “Why should my rug rat of a brother, the abomination to the family, the lustful lunatic who squanders away everything get the fattened calf, the best seat in the house? What about my efforts, my works? Why don’t I get recognized?

I’ll never forget a time in college when I was leading a bible study. We were talking about how our lives should be a living prayer. Someone asked me that night to give an accurate account of how many times I bowed my head and prayed during a day. I couldn’t think of a day that I did it more than three. From the back of the room I was chastised publically for not being a good enough Christian by a girl who I knew quite well. I remember thinking to myself, “How dare she teach me a lesson about prayer! I’m the teacher!” And plus I know this girl. I know this girl’s friends. She is in no shape to tell me how good of a Christian I need to be. She is the squanderer and the one who chases lust!

I’ll never forget the inner resentment I felt towards that girl.

This inner resentment is my own “lostness.” We don’t have to squander all we have to realize we are separated from God. We can actually be in the very room as our “father” and still not be connected to the divine. Anger, resentment, and envy hold us in bondage and keep us from living freely with our God.

There are a lot of us who choose judgment over forgiveness, condemnation over reconciliation, anger over love, and jealousy instead of joy. And looking deeply into myself and then around at the lives of other people; I wonder, “Which one does more damage, lust or resentment?”

There is so much resentment among the “just” and the “righteous.” There is so much judgment, condemnation, and prejudice among the so-called “saints.” There is so much frozen anger among the people who are so concerned about avoiding “sin.”

Is giving in to lust that much more severe than carrying cold anger in the corners of your heart towards those who lust?

Once upon a time there was a park-keeper whose job was to pick up liter on the spiked pole. Surrounded by the glorious beauty of flowers and trees, with the sun sparkling through the leaves, he only had eyes for the garbage he had to collect and the damage it did. The park-keeper could only see the bad, and was blind to the beauty.

We may not be lustfully chasing after cheap thrills, but we may be people who hate those who do. Who resent those who do. Who judge those who do. And let’s be honest, despite our attempts toward Christian actions, we are blind to the beauty. The beauty of real, redeeming love. Blind to forgiveness. Blind to grace. Blind to reconciliation. And I just can't quit thinking, "I'm even blind to the fact that I'm blind."

Resentment has a way of making us look at liter, instead of flowers and trees.

The Prodigal in Us

2010-03-16T10:19:00.001-04:00

On a dusty, long day in the field the father of the prodigal son looks up from his plow and sees a silhouette on the horizon. The oldest son approaches and asks, “Were we expecting guests tonight?” “No son, not tonight.” “Well who do you think that may be?” And in a relieved breathe the father says, “He’s alive; he’s come home!”

With haste the father breaks through the field lines, jumps the fence, heads for the street, runs to his boy, and filled with compassion, embraces his boy with a holy hug. All the brokenness, all the shame, all the hurt that boy was carrying is gone.

Forgiven.

Forgotten in the beauty of the compassionate embrace.

The holy hug.

Immediately the father retrieves his royal robe, rings, and kills the fattened calf and prepares a feast for the prodigal son’s honor.

Returning home, returning to the presence of God carries with it, forgiveness, grace, and mercy. Every time we return home our brokenness is forgotten. Our sins are forgiven. Our hurts are healed. Every time God turns our brokenness into beauty.

But this parable shows us that we as Christians also play the role of the father.

When someone comes to you in brokenness, in hurt, in agony for what they have done to you or someone else, then our Godly response is treat them as our “father” treats us. We are not to keep hating, rejecting, and avoiding, but rather to reconcile with a compassionate embrace.

Brokenness is only as beautiful as the compassion that surrounds it. People need to be forgiven. People need reconciliation. You at times play the role of the father and help bring compassion and healing to all that you meet. You can offer a space for nonjudgmental acceptance. As Christians, we must be people who are willing to forgive. To embrace. To hug a world that has lost its center.

But reconciliation goes much further than just a hug. Reconciliation kills the fattened calf, brings out a royal robe, a ring and offers the one who is seeking reconciliation the seat of honor.

When you run to God looking for care, looking for comfort, you are met with a hug. And then you are also met with a feast. You don’t have to sit on the fringes in guilt upset at the choices you made, but are rather reestablished into the family of God. You are given a seat at the table. As a matter of fact, there is always room at God’s table. No one is too sinful, too messed up, too different to sit beside God and feast. Reconciliation doesn’t just forgive; it also reunites a person back into community. It’s what God does for us, and what we must do for others.

When we return home God embraces us with a compassionate embrace and throw a feast in our honor. Why is it so hard for us to do this for other people?

God's Silence

2010-03-09T08:38:00.001-05:00

Long ago God spoke to ancestors by the prophets . . . this is all well and good but what about now? Can we hear God’s voice? There are times when God’s presence seems to be missing; God’s voice goes unheard.

I will never forget my first ever at-bat as a freshman baseball player at Belmont University. To this day I’m not sure how it happened. It had never happened to me before, and there was no reason for me to suspect it would happen here. I was a decent hitter but the odds were probably one in a million.

The pitch came, I loaded my stance, I thought of everything in that split second: hips, hands, torque, table-top swing, bat speed, acceleration . . . and then . . . I heard it. Not the smack of the catcher’s mitt, not the ping of bat . . . my face. In all my thinking, in all my strategy, I forgot to get out of the way of the ball. It hit me square on my left eye. 86mph of force right to the orbital. I wish I could say I handled this like a champ but I went down hard. I screamed at the top of my lungs, “I’m blind. I’m blind!” By the end of the ordeal I found myself in the emergency room looking at x-rays of a completely shattered face. I had surgery, replaced some of my bones with titanium plates and didn’t play another inning of baseball for the rest of the season.

The impact of the ball shattered my face, but it was in the four months of recovery where intense searching, questioning, and not finding God’s presence became the norm. I needed answers but got none. I needed hope but found emptiness. I needed to know I would be alright but, instead, was left wanting. The impact of the ball shattered my face, but the wilderness of the recovery nearly shattered my faith.

I bet each of you know the sting of God’s silence. Disappointment. Anger. Illness. The loss of a job. The death of a loved one. You’re questioning but not finding any relief, any answers, any hope.

And the truth of the matter is these too are the feelings of the second generation Christian congregation— the feelings of constantly being “off-center.”

Scholars tell us the generation of Christians like the congregation in Hebrews is a community that has been hit in the face by a metaphorical baseball. They’re a community that is struggling for guidance and in desperate need for words of hope. Why? Because they are second generation Christians. They’re being persecuted by the Romans. None of them have seen Jesus. None of them ever talked to Jesus. They are living out the faith of their parents that told them Jesus would save them. God would return to them. They were told Jesus would end their persecution. But it hadn’t happened yet. They’re hurting. They feel abandoned. Their faith is off-center. They are tempted to drift back to the Jewish faith that was once so comfortable. God’s presence is equally as absent as it may be for us.

In high school I found little need for authentic spirituality. I grew up in a small town, and I got a lot of praise from the people around me. I got enough attention to fuel my ego for years. I participated in a lot of activities and found myself in several social pipelines. I felt important. I felt watched. The praise from the world was enough for me.

But then I left high school and went to college. Packed my bags and moved to the big city. I wasn’t nearly as important there. The world didn’t revolve around me like I thought it did in high school. I quickly became discouraged, lonely and distraught. My faith, my loves, my beliefs weren’t rooted. They didn’t have the strength to hold me. I began wandering further and further away from my core. It’s no wonder that when I got hit in the face, I found myself struggling to find God – I was too far from my center.

To hear God’s voice, we must begin to move back towards our center. Hope comes when we seek after God. Hope comes when we hold on to our faith; when we resiliently believe God can bring healing, redemption and peace. Hope comes when God hurls a holy summons, a disturbance, a voice of revelation. Hope comes when God speaks. And the irony is . . . God always speaks . . . just sometimes we choose not to listen.

Stillness

2010-02-22T16:22:00.002-05:00

When Jesus wraps himself in our dust, he takes on the complete role of being human. And he finds it necessary to pull away from his life and reflect.

This year for Lent I was going to give up drinking sweet tea. Then Noelle took me to Chik-fil-a and I thought better of my sacrifices. I am participating in Lent though. Noelle bought me a devotional book that uses quotes from my favorite theologian and spiritualist, Henri Nouwen. This book is walking me through a journey of reflection and penitence. It’s reminds me that I am a sinful, imperfect, broken vessel. It concentrates on an inward journey to the heart. A journey that requires intentional moments of reflection, prayer, and stillness in my day.

I’m learning I go too fast. I’m learning my plate is sometimes too full. I’m learning that the more I do the less aware I am of my own needs. This year for Lent, I’m giving up being busy and replacing them with moments of stillness.

And I can’t help but notice that when Jesus wraps himself in our dust, when he becomes human, he too needs to set aside moments of stillness to reflect. He too slows his life down to think, to pray, to keep from being a work-a-holic.

I remember my first intentional go at solitude and reflection. It was my senior year of college; I went on my first intentional, silent retreat. All of the University Ministries leaders from their respective organizations at Belmont got together to go on this retreat.

We sat in silence for three hour intervals. One particular interval I decided to journal. I pulled out my notebook and started writing a prayer to God. “Dear God, over the last few weeks ...and then it hit me.

I was about to verbalize my sin. I was about to ask for forgiveness. I was about to admit my failures. I put the pen down. I quit writing. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t ready. The stillness; the quiet; it made me face my distractions, my sins, the parts of myself that I want to hide. My shadow side.

I realized silence has a way of bringing out for me my inner distractions so they can manifest themselves to me in full force.

I agree with Nouwen when he says,

“To bring solitude into our lives is one of the most necessary but also most difficult disciplines. Even though we may have a deep desire for real solitude, we also experience a certain apprehension as we approach that solitary place and time. As soon as we are alone, without people to talk with, books to read, TV to watch, or phone calls to make, an inner chaos opens up in us.”

This chaos can be so disturbing and so confusing that we can hardly wait to get busy again. Entering a private room and shutting the door, being alone in the wilderness, quieting your soul in your car before work, does not mean that we immediately shut out all inner doubts, angry feelings, anxiety, or impulsive desires. On the contrary, when we have removed our outer distractions, we often find that our inner distractions manifest themselves to us in full force.

But, stillness must be a place of conversion – not distraction or fear. In stillness we are converted from people who want to show each other what we have and what we can do into people who raise our open and empty hands to God in the recognition that we are all broken vessel and yet a free gift from God. Thus, in solitude we encounter not only God but also our true self. It is precisely in the light of God’s presence that we can see who we really are.

A Hero's Call

2010-02-14T19:52:00.001-05:00

Joseph Campbell is well known around the theology world for his work in dissecting myths across cultures. He travels the world tracing stories, legends, fables, myths (especially in the religious arena) and charts his findings. Over the course of time, he found an overwhelmingly consistent theme.

In almost every story there is a main character that swoops in and saves the day. A champion. A rebel who rights the ship. And these champions follow a similar life story.

Campbell calls this theme the Heroes Journey.

These heroes experience a call, cross a threshold (point of no return), battle conflicts and opposing forces, only to find themselves immersed in a life changing saga that inevitably changes the course of history.

Along the way they meet helpers too. Ones that travel along life’s path helping at a moment’s notice. Then the hero approaches the climactic moment in the journey. It is the last battle, the last stand, where good meets evil, where fates will be decided. Campbell calls this the boon.

And after the boon is over, the hero crosses back over the threshold and lands back home – the place where it all started. The hero lands back home and is essentially the same, but different.

Hollywood plays off this journey motif perfectly.

Take the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy is called to go on a quest, follows the yellow brick road to the other side of the rainbow. She fights hardships, meets helpful creatures, overcomes unparalleled odds, and returns home a changed and renewed person.

Star Wars. Luke Skywalker is a peasant at best. He gets called to become a Jedi. Meets helpful people along the way, finds himself in ridiculous hardships, overcomes unparalleled odds, and returns home a changed and renewed person.

These storylines are even in scripture. Abraham is just a nomadic herdsman right? Until God calls him to do more. Moses is nothing more than a homeless, stuttering, murderer that gives up a life of luxury in Egypt – right? Until God calls. Gideon is just a poor boy in a poor family trying to make ends meet in the family’s threshing floor right? Until the angel of the Lord calls.

Big moments even in scripture are met with this initial call story. These call moments are powerful. They need not be overlooked. They change our lives. Set out a new path for us to tread.

And Jesus is no different. His story is even adorned with multiple call moments. We see angels announcing his miraculous birth. As Jesus comes up out of the baptismal water we get the voice of the LORD saying, “This is my son, in whom I am well pleased.”

All heroes have a call story. And I argue that these storylines are true for you and me too. God calls us over the tumult. God calls us into a world in which needs saving. When we accept the call, we are choosing to act in that same world as God to bring healing to the oppressed, sight to the blind, the ministry of release to all that we come into contact with. When we accept our call, we are crossing over into a world that needs our fortitude, care, and transfigured love.

Encountering the Holy

2010-02-08T22:58:00.001-05:00

Choosing to follow Jesus may bring on a few socially negative implications, but the reward far exceeds the threats. The reward supersedes the implications. The reward is eternal.

Fred Craddock tells this story:

I recall preaching in a university church in Norman, Oklahoma, some years ago, when a young woman came up to me after the service. I had preached on the call of the disciples. She came up and said she wanted to talk with me and said, “I’m in med school here, and that sermon clinched what I’ve been struggling with for some time.”

“What’s that” I respond.
“Dropping out of med school.”
“What do you want to do that for?”

She said she was going to go work in the Rio Grande Valley. She said, “I believe that’s what God wants me to do.” She quit med school, went to Rio Grande Valley, sleeps under a piece of tin in the back of a pickup truck and teaches little children while their parents are out in the field. She dropped out of med school for this, and her folks back in Montana are saying, “What in the world happened?”

And now I’m saying to her parents, “Well, now, I was just preaching, I didn’t mean to, you know.”

For some people encountering the holy is an inner release that sets their lives ablaze. But for most of us, being called by God is obscure and, honestly, scary.

I mean no one in their right mind would give up a promising career in medicine to follow God to the Rio Grande Valley – would they? No one in their right mind would give up the chance for money, fame, and privilege for empty calories, poverty, and homelessness in return. No one would, if they knew better, leave the social interconnectedness of family to follow a hunch, a feeling, and dare I say, a conviction.

I too know what it’s like to encounter the holy. But I know it as a moment in which I felt ashamed.

It was on a Saturday afternoon on the floor of my freshman dorm I found myself on my knees asking for forgiveness of sins and not expecting what I got in return. God revealed God’s self to me. I encountered the holy. I came face to face with the divine. And I promise you, it was the most sacred and scariest moment of my life.

When we come face to face with Christ – our woundedness is revealed. Our shame uncovered. Our sins are laid bare. God sees us for the shamefulness that we are.

And yet God calls us none the less.

When you encounter the holy, you feel ashamed, unworthy, and scared. But simultaneously you feel loved, accepted, and cherished. You feel as if you belong. You feel as if you have been forgiven. You feel as if you are a part of a much more important story. When you encounter the holy, everything changes. It has to change. Nothing is the same. Memories are different. Lives are different. Ambitions are different. Hopes and dreams are different. You enter into a worldview that is different.

So with all too clear of certainty I heard, I felt, I embodied Jesus calling me off the dorm floor. He told me I was forgiven and that something much bigger than my guilty conscious was at stake. I knelt before the Lord seeking forgiveness, and when I arose I was asked to follow.

Choosing to follow Jesus may bring on a few socially negative implications, but the reward far exceeds the threats. The reward supersedes the implications. The reward is eternal.

I know for me, following Jesus has been completely worth it. I have a relationship that allows me to find my true self, and feel as if life carries with it meaning and purpose. And at the same time, my commitment to follow Jesus has allowed me to not only find my true self, but also help others too. My identity is now in Christ, and my heart allows me to care for the souls of God’s people.

Choosing to follow Jesus may bring on a few socially negative implications, but the reward far exceeds the threats. The reward supersedes the implications. The reward is eternal.

Luke 4:16-30

2010-02-04T23:22:00.000-05:00

As the story goes, instead of going to Galilee, Luke takes us to Nazareth. He makes us witness a synagogue scene. And then he throws us a curveball.

Instead of making us hear a sermon from an old rabbi, we see Jesus standing in the middle of the congregation, working his way to the platform and reading from the prophet Isaiah. Luke has him announcing that he is the new favor of the Lord. He is the rightful Jubilee.

But something happens here. A twist occurs. Conflict arises. Nazareth isn’t pleased with Jesus. They don’t like what he is saying. This is not how the story is supposed to go. Jesus is supposed to be loved by his hometown.

But instead they become outraged. They grab him. Attempt to take him to a cliff. They want to throw him down, silence him, kill him and keep him from becoming who he is supposed to become.

Why? What did he say?

This past week, three friends and I packed our tents, bags, pillows, and headed to Warner Robbins, Georgia for the new Chick-fil-a opening. Chick-fil-a has an advertising promotional called the “First 100.” Twenty-four hours before a new store opens, Chick-fil-a allows anybody and everybody to line up at six in the morning. The first 100 people are awarded a year’s supply of Chick-fil-a coupons. The catch is, you have to camp out in their parking lot for 24 hours.

There’s another catch. If there are over 100 people who show up then you get placed in a raffle. Sure enough, over 100 showed. One by one, over the loud speaker we waited until they called our names. We stood in thirty degree weather at 6am in the dark of a Chick-fil-a parking lot waiting to be called. They get to ten – not called yet. Twenty – none of us four. Thirty – still nothing. By this time you can hear the grumbling in the crowd. All I can think about is how heaven better not be anything like this. The anxiety. The wait.

I can’t help but remember the waiting, the anticipation of the crowd. The anger. The entitlement. The person in front of me was on his 9th “First 100” and he had always been called. But this time he wasn’t. He was so mad. He screamed obscenities and was escorted off the premises.

Where does this sense of entitlement come from?

Unfortunately, our narrative answers this question. Entitlement comes from hate, and hate is the opposite of Jesus’ message.

Luke wants us to know that to be about the business of Jesus is not to be entitled, but rather offering other’s release. Jesus says he’s going to open up his ministry to outsiders, the oppressed, and people with their backs against a wall. Jesus says he’s here to bring love, time, attention, and release to them.

Regrettably though, we see for the first time in Luke the unfortunate reality about human nature: When God opens the door to other types of people – hate surfaces. Entitlement surfaces. And you see the core of people’s faith.

Why do we as Christians become so entitled with God? Why do we think God should love us first and then be selective about who is next?

The Ministry of Release

2010-01-25T10:12:00.007-05:00

In Luke 4:14-21, Jesus works his way to the platform and pulls out a scroll from the Ark in Nazareth's synagogue. He doesn’t grab the Law – he grabs a prophecy. He grabs Isaiah 61 and Isaiah 58.

This is the first time you hear Jesus speak to people in the Gospel of Luke. And what a way to start!

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me! I’m anointed and I’ve come to bring with me the ministry of release.”

Release is the mission of Luke’s Jesus. It’s the life pattern Jesus is setting for all who chose to follow.

The final line Jesus reads from Isaiah says, “In the year of the Lord’s favor.” This is not a throwaway line. Jesus is speaking about Isaiah 58:6 which is talking about Leviticus 25. In ancient Israelite culture, there is a year known as the Year of Jubilee. Jubilee actually means, “Release.” The year of Jubilee occurs every fifty years. Accordingly, property would be returned to the original owners, debts would be canceled, and those who had managed their debts by selling themselves into slavery would be released.

Jesus is saying, “I am going to be the Jubilee for everyone. I am going to be what brings release to everyone I meet.”

We, as followers of Jesus, must continue Jesus’ ministry of release! Lest we fail to appreciate the far-reaching importance of this ministry, we should note that release comes in two ways:

The first release is a spiritual release that we all need. It allows us to forgive ourselves, our sins, and our failures. It allows us to continue pursuing after God without feeling ashamed. It saves our souls, grants us freedom, and allows us an opportunity to be forgiven.

But Jesus’ ministry of release is also physical. Jesus comes to this world to do ministry – not just preach it. The ministry of release is a ministry that loves and cherishes life over death, good over evil, and a helping hand in need.

Jesus is offering a pattern that all of us must continue. Followers of Jesus, Christians, are people who bring physical healing to the poor, wounded, outcast, disenfranchised, victims of an earthquake, victims of the housing market, victims of poverty, sex trafficking and everyone else who find themselves down and out.

If Jesus were here today he would find himself in Haiti helping rescue babies. He would find himself in Afghanistan promoting peace. He would find himself in Uganda stopping the spread of malaria. He would find himself in Atlanta shutting down sex trafficking parlors. Jesus would find himself in in your hometown taking care of the needy, the sick, and the poor.

Jesus is the ultimate Jubilee. All of us are captives, slaves to sin, slaves to the world, and in desperate need of freedom. Jesus in Luke 4 proclaims he is who history has longed for. He is our Savior! He releases us to go out into the world and do the very same.

In a Cloud of Dust

2010-01-18T13:33:00.002-05:00

The role of the deacon is one that should be held in high praise. Every denomination seems to have their own understanding of what a deacon’s role is, but consistently each denomination sees deaconesses and deacons as key people and figures for the life of their community.

The word “deacon” comes from the Greek word “diokania” which actually has many meanings. One meaning is, “service rendered in an intermediary capacity.” In other words, deacons stand as mediators between two things. The church and God! Deacons are seen as people who work for the Church of Jesus Christ and therefore mediate similarly to that of the pastor – they listen for God’s direction and convey love to the congregation.

“Diokania” can also mean, “performance of a service.” A deacon serves. They work for the church. They “do” on behalf of the church. They provide love, vision, support, care, and a warm body in the pews for the church. Deacons don’t just listen to God, the serve on behalf of God. Deacons are committed people of faith who serve all those they come in contact with.

In short, a deacon listens and serves.

But my favorite part of this word is in its etymology. It comes from an ancient language that renders the meaning of “dusty sandals” or a “cloud of dust.” This paints and eloquent picture of the deacon, for it illustrates that she or he should be serving the people of God’s kingdom so much and so fast that a cloud of dust stirs behind them.

So here we have an office that’s main function is not a bank teller, fortune teller, or country club president but rather that of a mobilizer.

But I must stop here and not get carried away because a core Baptist distinctive is that we are a priesthood of believers. This means all Baptists are seen as priests and therefore all of us are equal in stature. All can read scripture for yourself, pray for yourself; you don’t have to go through your pastor to reach God. You are your own priest. You and God work together.

So the real question is “why do we need deacons?” As true as Baptists are all priests, we need deacons because we need an intentional group of activists for bursts at a time to listen for God’s direction.

The world is filled with the muted cries of persons who hurt. People are lonely, lost, and confused. Having no foundation on which to stand and no North Star by which to set their life’s compass, many persons are like dilapidated ships floating aimlessly at sea. The church is a port for these people to anchor into. But deacons are the ones who go out into the deep blue sea and find them and help them come home.

1 Timothy 3:8-13 goes into great detail about the qualifications of a deacon. The most poignant part of Timothy’s section on deacons, for me, is a word I want to challenge all of us by: “In all you do, be someone who keeps the mystery of our faith close to heart and in a clear conscious.”

The mystery of God is what wraps us up in the arms of love and allows us to submit our lives to a ministry of service. It’s what gives us hope to live, hope to move, and hope to become fully alive.

May all of us embrace the mystery of God’s grace, for it has the power to turn all our feet into clouds of dust.

God's Babies

2010-01-11T11:03:00.000-05:00

John’s prologue is quite intricate. It’s written in an ancient word scramble. If you take thought for thought starting at the beginning and the end and you work your way to the middle then you will see that the prologue carries an impressive consistency. When you do, you arrive at the hinge in which the gospel turns. The central message of the prologue and all of John is found in verse 12b:

But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God. (John 1:12b NRSV)

This is the most important message for you to receive and to give others. “That for those who believe in Jesus’ name, power is given to them to become children of God.” We are God’s children.

But as fun as this is to say, the hard truth of the matter is that we don’t accept our identity as a child of God. To be a child of God would be to mimic the life of Jesus – right?

When I look out at Christians, especially in the Baptist world, we don’t love and don’t serve as well as we would like. We fight denominational wars and cast people away for being different. We draw lines in the sand and vote people in and out. Our churches decide who should be forgiven and who should be damned. We become tribal and introspective and build a callus over anything outside of our worldview.

This is not Jesus’ gift to us in the prologue. John says that all who call upon the name of the Lord are given power to become children of God. So why do we do it? Why do we fail to acknowledge the holiness of others? Why do we not see everyone as God’s beloved?

Because what you can’t see in yourself, you will never be able to see in others.

Being a child of God is what allows you to take love, peace, justice, righteousness and forgiveness to all people that you meet. It allows you not to judge.

But on an individual level we experience too much hurt and sorrow to be any different than who we always have been. The struggles of life create a callus. Never feeling like we have enough and always feeling inferior to those around us doesn’t make us want to love and especially forgive. People’s pain, sorrow and despair are too great to just cast it aside and say, “You’re forgiven.” We have our own pain and our own baggage. We have our own sensual and sexual need to be loved and to be served.

So as long as we can’t see ourselves as a child of God, we will fail to recognize these gifts in others.

But why is this important? Because it is as a child of God that you are sent out into this world. If you do not claim your identity as a child of God how will anyone see it in themselves through you? You are the mouthpieces of God and you must carry love not anguish in your heart. People are going to see hope through you. People are going to want to grow because of your willingness to grow. People are going to be willing to forgive because of your leadership to do so. People are going to see their true selves as a child of God because you do too.

But what you don’t see in yourself, you won’t see in others. You must claim your identity as a child of God so others can too.

Epiphany Now

2010-01-04T00:35:00.001-05:00

To walk across the Jordanian desert would take weeks. The three Kings caravanned after viewing a star in the sky. Think about this, what kind of epiphany would it take in your gut to convince your family, your country, your temple guards that you needed to make a pilgrimage West to see a baby being born, give him the most expensive gift you have to give, travel alone and all you are basing this gut feeling on is the formation of the stars. And if that isn’t wild enough, you meet at least two other kings with the exact same story on your journey.

From a logical standpoint, the odds of this really happening are slim to none. But this story brings with it something much deeper than logic. This story carries the majesty of an appointed epiphany.

Webster defines Epiphany as a “Sudden Realization.” The Magi suddenly realize the interplay of God in the world. The presence of the Magi validates Jesus’ divinity.

And these are Gentile Kings. Matthew is invariably saying, “Jesus is more than just king of the Jews, Jesus is king over all people. All races. All tribes. All kingdoms. Jesus is Lord of all.”

This story is just a blip in the greater narrative of Jesus’ life. But without it, we would be deprived of seeing divinity intersecting with humanity. We would lose out on the majesty that comes with the birth of our savior. We would lose out on the validation that God is making things happen in the world. We would miss the complexities that come with Jesus being the Lord and Savior to all people – not just to the Jews. We would miss Jesus’ divine spark over all of life.

This week we celebrate the sudden realization that because of the birth of Jesus Christ, everything changes.

Life changes. God changes. Love changes. Our salvific narrative changes.

And all of this happened because three men from a far off place listened to an inner voice saying that something important is happening. Something mysterious is taking place. Something holy is occurring. And to go to that mystery will change them forever.

Just like to the Magi, God speaks to us. You just have to be intentional about listening, and you are going to have to be willing to take a chance on a gut feeling.

An epiphany is a sudden realization that things are about to change. Life is about to change. For the Magi, their lives will never be the same. For us, we have the chance to hear our epiphany. We have a new year to make new choices, to choose Christ, to listen to the God in our lives, to change the direction of our daily schedule. To focus on what our gut, the Holy Spirit, is communicating to us. We have a chance to live with God in the present, to feel God in the now.

But remember, epiphanies don’t mean much if you don’t follow them.

In 2010, my prayer is you will follow your gut. You will choose a life that listens and moves by the voice of God. You will be so bold to allow God to shape you, move you, and change you. You will not be satisfied with your current relationship with Christ but will choose to move and be with the Spirit. You will embrace the presence of Christ and allow the epiphanies to guide you. It may not seem logical, but it will be holy.

Christianity Doesn't Exist Without Love

2009-12-20T20:00:00.001-05:00

At Christmas time it is hard even for doubters and unbelievers to not believe in something, if not everything. Peace on earth, good will towards all people, an innocence that truly exists, love that can inevitably be held, a dream coming true, the mystery of childlike faith, and the potentiality of hope – not even the canned carols piped over the shopping center parking plaza from Thanksgiving on can drown it out entirely. Christmas carries with it hallowedness, holiness, a time in which life grows still like the surface of a river so that when we look down upon it we see not the reflection of time, but the reflection of gracious presence.

Frederick Buechner says,

For a moment or two, the darkness of disenchantment, cynicism, and doubt draw back, at least a little, and all the usual worldly witcheries lose something of their power to charm.

But my cynicism says, “No moment lasts forever.” It is only one day out of a year that the bird of dawning sings to us his tune. Darkness inevitably returns. Doubters inevitably doubt. Unbelievers inevitably don’t believe. The story of Jesus’ birth is the most scrutinized passage in scripture. Too many trees have died for scholars to objectify the discrepancies found in Matthew and Luke’s accounts. The when, where and how of the Nativity are endlessly subject to conjecture.

And truthfully, Jesus’ birth is uncertain. Matthew and Luke disagree in detail. Luke says Jesus is born in the year when Cyrenius, the Roman governor of Syria, took a census of Palestine; whereas Matthew says it is during the reign of Herod the Great. The difficulty comes with the fact that Cyrenius’ census is known to have been taken in the year 6 AD and Herod the Great died ten years earlier in 4 BC. There is a ten year gap that scholars don’t know what to do with.

The place of Jesus’ birth is questionable too. Bethlehem is the town traditionally named King David’s town, but that may have come about simply in order to bring history into line with the Old Testament prophecy that Bethlehem was where the Messiah as the Son of David was destined to come from. There are good reasons for believing that he may actually have been born in Nazareth. If there was no census, why travel?

Finally, the how of Jesus’ birth is questionable. I mean really? The wise men and the star, really? The shepherds keeping watch over their flocks by night and the hymn the angels sing? If someone had been there with a camera, would he have recorded any of that? Or was the birth of Jesus no more if no less wonderful than any other birth? Whatever the answer, it can be based only on faith. There is no other way. The kind of objective truth a camera could have recorded is buried beneath the weight of two thousand years of ruins and sand.

But there is of course, another kind of truth. Whether in 4 BC or 6 AD, Nazareth or Bethlehem, Herod or Cyrenius, shepherds or kings, heavenly hosts of hymns or just Mary pushing as hard as she can – when that child was born – history changed.

So critique it if you will. Compare and contrast until your heart is content or even contrite. It is actually fine with me. I do it all the time. The bible’s account of our Savior’s birth is not inerrant. But I don’t care.

Buechner continues,

“For better or worse, it is a truth that, for twenty centuries, there have been untold numbers of men and women who, in untold numbers of ways, have been so grasped by the child who was born, so caught up in the message he taught and the life he lived, that they have found themselves profoundly changed by their relationship with him.”

And it is in this birth that a life-giving power is released to the entire world. It was the power of God.

This is the central message of Matthew and Luke. And this truth is a truth in which no language or legend seems extravagant enough to fully grasp.

Jesus as a baby does not judge or exhort or puzzle the world with his teachings. He makes no demands, threats, or even rewards. The world is free to take him or leave him. He does not rule the world from his mother’s lap but, like any child, is himself at the mercy of the world. Our creator of the ends of the earth comes among us in diapers. And that baby is the presence of love.

Christianity Doesn't Exist Without Joy

2009-12-14T15:05:00.004-05:00

This week’s Advent theme is joy. I’ve been at Union Baptist Church over a year and I realized I preached an Advent sermon on joy last year. So, I went to the archives, pulled out my text and read it. Here is how I defined joy in 2008:

Joy is a lot like faith; it is a choice. It is having the faith to step into and hold on to the light. Joy is the light that shines when all other lights fail.

Eh, not bad. I don’t hate it. I used a lightness and darkness theme throughout the sermon and said joy is, “choosing the light.” I still think this is a good word. It preaches. It puts the responsibility of joy in our hands.

But I can’t help but think, “Yeah, God’s light is a light that darkness can’t overcome, but how big is God’s light? Sometimes I feel like I’m in the dark all the time.”

So my 2008 definition seems a little weak. It’s comforting to a point, but I think it also overlooks a very real truth for us: When we find ourselves in dark places of the soul, the light of God helps, but our minds still hold the capacity to convince us that we still are not safe.

Think about it, when a person experiences sheer anguish – holding on to the light is good but it doesn’t always speak to the situation at hand. Darkness is still all around. My point is there are moments in life when we need something bigger to speak to our situation. We need a Savior. We need a Lord. We need something we can be rescued by . . . But what is going to look like?

Maybe pushing through the pain, trudging through the unanswering darkness is the road to joy. Maybe joy is more than just holding on to a light, maybe, it’s the actually walking through the night. Walking until the savior comes, walking knowing full well that savior will come.

In 2008, I said joy was the light of the Lord. In 2009, I say I don’t really know what joy is. I don’t know how to define it. C.S. Lewis in his book, Surprised by Joy, says it is an, “unsatisfied desire which is itself more desirable than any other satisfaction.” I love this quote. Joy is unsatisfying for it is strange and random but that dissatisfaction is more desirable than anything satisfied.

Joy doesn't immediately turn out darkness into light. But that’s okay. It actually doesn’t satisfy anything. Joy makes us hungry, desiring, and expecting.

Joy is a craving. When we get it, we want more of it. It makes us move towards God. It makes us want to sing. It makes us want to rejoice. It makes us want to live, to be fully present, fully alive, and fully human.

Joy, when found, seeps it’s way into every fabric of our humanity. It changes us. It rescues us. It is what we use to worship God. It is the gift we give to others. It is the gift Mary and Joseph were given at the first Christmas. For joy comes from God, and in God we have Christianity. So Christianity doesn’t exist without joy.

I know what it feels like. I just wish I knew what it was. But I don’t care, because I never want to live without it.

Christianity Doesn't Exist Without Shalom

2009-12-06T17:04:00.002-05:00

Colossians 3:15 tells us to let the peace of Christ rule in our hearts.

There was a time when farmers on the Great Plains would tie a rope from their porch to their barn on the first sign of a blizzard. They all knew the horror stories of friends and loved ones who froze to death after loosing sight of their barn or home and never left their backyard.

Parker Palmer says, “Today we still live in blizzard in which people are dying in their backyards. The blizzard hits us with economic injustice, ecological ruin, physical and spiritual violence, and their inevitable outcome, war. It swirls within us as fear and frenzy, greed and deceit, and indifference to the suffering of others.”

Truthfully, we all know people who have wandered off into this maddening world and have been separated from their own souls, they lose their moral bearing and sometimes their mortal lives.

What these people share in common is they attempt to leave home to find fulfillment but they get caught in a blizzard. And the ones caught are doing nothing more than looking for peace.

But this hidden peace is what Jesus promises.

In the Greek, Colossians says for us to carry with us the “Shalom of Christ.” I did some digging and this word, shalom, actually renders a weightier definition than peace. The more appropriate definition is wholeness.

Wholeness is the beauty of Advent. The coming of Jesus offers the potential for us to be whole. His birth and even his eventual return bring with them pieces of heaven, pieces of wholeness. It allows us to live in a secular world and still be touched by the divine. The Advent of Jesus, brings with it peace on earth and good will towards all people.

So if you are the one who is lost in the backyard and looking for home, then I tell you the presence of God is that rope tied from your backdoor to the barn. It is the guide that keeps you on track and in connected even when you have lost sight of where you are in life.

This rope is what our author tells the church of Colossians to grab. He says to have it with you wherever you go as if it is all you need.

Christianity doesn’t exist without peace. Christianity doesn’t exist without you holding that rope. For the rope is connected to God and your heart. To lose sight of the rope is to lose sight of your heart, to turn and walk away from your core self, your true self, and to also walk away from God. But to hold that rope, even when life gets hard, is to stay connected with the divine, the fullness of time, and the Prince of Peace.

Christianity Doesn't Exist Without Hope

2009-12-02T12:53:00.005-05:00

Our hope is in Christ.

Hope that despite the fact that sin and death still rule the world, Jesus somehow conquers them. Hope that in him and through him all of us stand a chance of somehow conquering them too. Hope that at some unforeseeable time and in some unimaginable way Jesus will return with healing in his wings.

C.S. Lewis in his book, Mere Christianity says,

“We as humans carry a need that can’t be met in this world . . . me must therefore be made for another world."

I love this quote because it captures all that Advent and Christianity stands for. Christians’ hope is in a Christ that returns with heaven and healing in his wings.

But this is very hard for us because we are not trained to think of heaven as our ultimate resting place. We think of Sunday afternoon naps, the Tennessee Titans winning five games in a row, buying new electronics, watching the sunrise with a blanket and a cup of Joe, or eating ice cream on the beach. But heaven, well that is strange for us to think about. I guess it is because we are so removed from the notion that Jesus might actually come back – we look to meet our needs elsewhere.

But Frederick Buechner says,

“Christianity is wishful thinking. Even the part about judgment and Hell reflects the wish that somewhere the score is being kept. Dreams are wishful thinking. Children playing at being grown-ups is wishful thinking. Interplanetary travel is wishful thinking. Sometimes wishing is the wings that truth comes true on. Sometimes the truth is what sets us wishing for it.”

So what am I talking about? I’m talking about hope.

Christian hope is hope in Christ, hope in the return of Christ, and the need for another life. Christianity does not exist without these hopes. The founding principle of Christianity is we will prepare ourselves for the coming of the Lord.

One of my favorite movies of all time is “Shawshank Redemption.” I love it when Andy tells his best friend Red to go to a field, find a tree, dig up a box, and see what’s inside. Red goes to the field, finds the tree, finds the box and opens it. He reads a letter from Andy. In that letter Andy writes, “Hope is a good thing. Maybe even the best of things.”

For Christians, hope is just that. Christianity doesn’t exist without it. Hope for us is a good thing, and it may even be the best of things.

True Advent?

2009-11-29T21:41:00.003-05:00

Since the earliest days of church history, people have had different answers to the question, “When is the true ‘Advent’ going to take place?” Advent means ‘coming.’ This question is asking when Jesus will return to reign. Here is list of significant minds and their thoughts:

• 2nd century church historians Justin Martyr and Irenaeus both believed the events in Revelation are real and will happen in their lifetime.

• Late in the 2nd century comes Montanus, “The Mouthpiece of the Holy Spirit.” He starts a strand of Christianity that proclaims the world would end in a few months.

• In the 1200s Joachim of Fiore, an Italian monk who received a vision from God about the meanings of the visions in Revelation, found historical people to represent the monsters and demons in Revelation and put together a proposal that Jesus Christ would be returning in 1260.

• American 18th century Evangelist Jonathan Edwards believed humans were the hands and feet of Jesus, but Jesus would not return until all had heard about Jesus. So he started the Evangelical, conversion-seeking phenomenon known as the Revival.

• William Miller, a veteran of the 1812 war based his interpretation on Daniel 8:14 that says, “2300 days from the decree to restore Jerusalem.” He believed the accurate dating of Ezekiel 4:6 is year 457 BC which includes the decree to restore Jerusalem and so he believed the end of the world, the coming of Christ would be on March 21, 1843. He refined his search and said it would happen in 1844. This failure came to be known as the Great Disappointment.

• Charles Taze Russell believed WWI must mean something biblical. He found passages in Daniel and Revelation that said the end of the world would occur 2420 days following the time of the Gentiles (607 BC). He took that each day mentioned in Daniel to actually mean a calendar year and found the end of the world to be in 1914. Russell died before the war was over but his followers formed a group called the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

• David Koresh in 1981 gathered followers in Waco and convinced them that he was the true adversary of the evil city of Babylon.

Every single one of these people believes with all that they are that God will have dominion over this earth. “Look!” cries Revelation. “He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail. So it is to be. Amen.”

But Jesus hasn’t come back yet. All of these Bible believing people are wrong.

What does this mean for us today?

I guess it means we should continue waiting despite the evidence, for the one unchanging doctrine since the creation of the church is the Doctrine of Hope. Hope that Jesus will in fact return to reign. Hope that despite evil and sin Jesus will have the power to stop them. Hope that in Christ we too may have the power to stop them. Hope that somehow on Jesus’ return there will be healing in his wings. I know I still believe it.

Nothing Lasts

2009-11-14T15:49:00.003-05:00

In Mark 13 an unnamed disciple looks up at the Temple’s enormous stone wall and gasps, “This is huge!”

We can relate to this can’t we? Admiring humanity's dominance over it's environment.

Alan Culpepper says,

It is the essence of humanism to look at the flowering of our God-given potential and artistry and think that it is the highest good. We may easily look at our great cities and pride ourselves on our conquest of the environment. We may easily look at our technology and medical advances and think that we can now control our destinies. And we may look to our prosperity and material comforts and think that we can provide for our needs.

Yet in humanity’s great narrative Empires have come and gone. Every century presents a new world power and a new world order. Change is marked by war, laws, and architecture. And in every case – the present power falls. Even though we have gone from the country to the city, from tents to buildings, from camels to cars, from roads to airplanes, the constant in history is not power but the replacement of power.

I’m just wondering if in our endeavor to better ourselves if we miss something holy because Jesus snaps at the chance to tell the unnamed disciple that buildings don’t last – nothing lasts except him.

Culpepper continues, “Marveling the magnificence of our work, as though it can be lasting or transcend our mortality, marks the long history of human delusion that reaches from the tower of Babel to the tragic collapse of the twin towers of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.”

Jesus is right, things don’t last and maybe in our endeavor to better ourselves we do miss something holy.

The goal for life is not conquering the environment so we can leave our mark on history. The goal is to become fully alive in the present, naked 'now.'

God Bless You

2009-11-09T21:48:00.002-05:00

God bless you.

Frederick Buechner says,

The word blessing has come to mean more often than not a pious formality such as ministers are continually being roped into giving at dinner parties. But in the biblical sense, if you give me your blessing, you irreversibly convey into my life not just something of the beneficent power and vitality of who you are but something also of the life-giving power of God in whose name the blessing is given.

Yet the word blessing still falls deaf on most ears. It carries little to no depth or meaning.

I would argue “luck,” of all words, hits closer to home because when you have “luck” you really have something. Everybody knows about the magical nature of luck. It wins ballgames, escapes hard times, and jumps from one person to the next. A blessing, on the other hand, has come to sound like a Hallmark imitation.

But what if your luck was God actually blessing you?

I think of, in this instance, Ruth – a Gentile, Moabite woman whose Israelite husband died. A nobody. A meaningless person. I mean God doesn’t sign a covenant with Ruth or the Moabites. Ruth doesn’t save the planet from disease or rescue a baby from a burning building. She doesn’t, for any reason, merit being in the lineage of Jesus Christ. But “luckily” she is. She’s actually the great-grandmother of King David.

But how? She’s a Moabite. An outsider. For no reason whatsoever should God care about this person. She’s done nothing. She has nothing. She’s useless.

But that’s what God does -- isn't it? God takes the lowly, undeserving many and makes them holy.

This is called grace. And grace, well, that’s a blessing.

Our Saints

2009-10-31T17:27:00.001-04:00

November 1 is All Saints Day in the Christian calendar. This day is the day we (the Church) remember all the saints throughout church history.

Frederick Buechner says,

“It’s in God’s holy flirtation with the world where we occasionally see God drop a pocket handkerchief. These handkerchiefs are called saints.”

Many people think of saints as plaster saints or moral exemplars, men and women of such paralyzing virtue that they never thought a nasty thought or did an evil deed their whole lives long. As far as I know, real saints never even come close to characterizing themselves that way. On the contrary, no less a saint than Saint Paul wrote to Timothy, “I am foremost among sinners.”

In other words, the feet of saints are as much of clay as everybody else’s, and their sainthood consists less of what they have done than of what God has for some reason chosen to do through them. Did you know Saint Mary Magdalene was possessed by seven demons at one point (so says Catholic tradition)? St. Augustine prayed, “God give me chastity and continence – but not now!” Saint Francis of Assisi, the founder of Franciscan monks, lived a high-rollers life the majority of his adult career before surrendering to God’s call on his life.

I guess if God can use these people then there is no one God can’t use as a means of grace.

What some people don’t realize is that All Saints Day also celebrates the lives of loved one’s who have passed away during our lifetime.

Memories can be vessels for God’s assurance. These cherished memories of loved ones that live on inside of us is God’s way of reminding us that God is in control.

I’m learning that no one earns their way into heaven. No one deserves to climb Mt. Zion to worship God in the temple. But in Psalm 24, in a moment of true confession and honesty, we hear the cries of the Israelites saying that for those who seek after God – God shows mercy. God shows favor. God gives salvation. In other words, we can carry with our memories of our loved ones assurance that God is taking care of them.

The story of our faith is that God looks out at all that God created and says – “this is good, I’m well pleased.”

I truly believe you can know that your loved ones are being taken care of by God, and they are resting with the one who makes all things new. God doesn’t destroy but instead -- redeems. God doesn’t condemn but instead -- saves. God doesn’t punish but instead -- shows grace. God loves. God forgives. God redeems. Especially those we have lost this day.

Here's What I'm Trying to Say

2009-10-25T22:51:00.005-04:00

And in a soft whisper and almost tired breath, the preacher looks out from her notes and says –

Here is what I am trying to say . . .

From a seminary preaching professor's standpoint, this phrase may get you an C+.

But I've learned over the years this phrase can be the best part of the sermon for the listener. “Now that I have said all that – here is what I am trying to say!” It’s like a trigger. The sermon is almost over. She’s making her last point! It may or may not be a good one but it is almost over.

I have a memory of when I preached for one of the first times in a church that was not my home church. They were really sweet and they knew my New Testament professor and asked him to send someone good. Well, instead, he asked me to go. At twenty years old having the holy task of bringing forth a word from God that intervenes and intercepts the lives of believers and offers hope for a future is more or less missed. Instead, at twenty I saw this as an opportunity for them to listen to what I had to say.

36 minutes later . . . I said the magic phrase, “Here is what I am trying to say!” My brother in row four looked at me with exhaustion and smiled. That smile meant one thing, “Thank the Lord he’s done.” He could almost taste the lunch that was coming fifteen minutes later than it should.

So really the phrase can go either way. It is rarely used by good preachers but when it is it triggers the meaning of the moment. It is used by bad preachers to wrap up a stumbling, incoherent, and usually too long diatribe.

But in truth preaching is an art. It really is an attempt for a preacher to say what she or he thinks God is saying. It is built around listening intently for a word from God and being bold enough to stand before peers and loved ones not as a political salesperson but as a humble servant of God Almighty.

Preachers are given the task to invite you into a holy moment in time. A time where all things stand still and you are left alone before God. Good preachers take you to the cross, the empty tomb, the center of your soul, and before the throne - simultaneously. They word things with such craft that with every word you feel the power of the spirit inside you. And it seems effortless when done right.

Good preaching changes lives. It triggers us to listen to God, ourselves, and life in a new way. A better way. Our heart, mind, and soul - for a moment - become one.

So if you ever get to preach - remember - it is a holy task. And if you say, "here's what I'm trying to say" after a less than abbreviated attempt don't beat yourself up - every preacher has crashed and burned more than she or he cares to share.

I know my congregation would agree!

Hopelessness Rationalizes "What Is"

2009-10-21T15:06:00.002-04:00

Hopelessness rationalizes and adapts to ‘what is.’

A mother who lost her child has to adapt to a world without her son. A teenage pregnancy has to adapt to a world in which dreams are slowing down. A man laid off from work has to adapt to the precariousness of the economy. All of these situations sometimes feel like hope is gone and God is not responding.

Personally, I have never felt more hopeless in my life than the day after my college graduation party. I stopped the night before at a gas station to fill my car up with gas and placed my wallet on top of the car. Sure enough – I filled up with gas and drove away never realizing my wallet, full of hundreds of dollars, was missing. It dawned on me the next day what had happened.

I was forced to adapt to the situation. I was forced to rationalize it. I felt hopeless; I felt as if I messed up; I felt guilty.

Sometimes when we need Christ the most – it just seems like a fool’s hope that he will be there to respond. I mean, God has bigger things to do than to worry about my forgetfulness. It’s my fault, and why would God care anyway?

The Book of Hebrews answers this question by saying Jesus is our Great High Priest. (This may seem inconsequential to God not listening but hear me out)

Praying to Jesus, listening for Jesus to respond is not a fleeting task – it is a holy one. We are not praying to someone who died once upon a time and his stories live on, for Jesus turns toward God on our behalf and toward us on God’s. This conciliation is the role of the high priest.

So why is this important to us? If hopelessness rationalizes and adapts to ‘what is,’ then hope critiques and resists it.

We need to be reminded that Jesus is not just a man who walked the earth, but he is also the son of God who takes on our prayers and supplications and speaks them to God on our behalf. Jesus then listens to God and reports back to us what it is God wants us to do and be.

In short, Jesus is our hope. It’s the hope that allows us to critique and resist what is. Its hope that helps us keep faith, despite the evidence, knowing that only in so doing has the evidence any chance of changing.

Our brokenness, our hurt, our desperation to hear the voice of God subsides when we allow ourselves to engage in a relationship with Christ. God is speaking to us, listening to us, and responding to us. We must allow Jesus the time and room to speak on God’s behalf. If change in ‘what is’ is what we are looking for then we must listen to Jesus.

What good is a high priest if we never go and listen to him/her?

Parents: A Blessing or a Cursing

2009-10-09T11:01:00.001-04:00

Moses descends from the back of Mt. Sinai to bring two tablets that outline the rules in which life will be governed. On that list is “honor” your father and mother. I have to be honest; it is extremely hard for me to believe such a commandment should be so universal.

I agree with Frederick Buechner in his book Wishful Thinking when he says,

“How do you honor them when, well-intentioned as they may be, they make terrible mistakes with you that have shadowed your life ever since?”

Or how about when they abandon you? Or they abuse you, either sexually, emotionally, or physically? Or what about the people who left home, went off to college and formed a faith that radically opposed that of their parents? These people find themselves disenchanted after questioning the faith that ‘mom and them’ gave ‘em. Or what about the females who accepted a call from God to go to seminary despite their parents said they were forbidden? What about the young men who discover they are homosexual and now are disbarred from their family trees? What about the young lady who never met her dad? Or the boy who was raised by unbelievers? What about the crack baby born into a hostile environment? Or the girl whose parents just give too little too late? Are these people required by God to “honor” their parents?

Life is not worth living in fear, denial, or guilt because of an out-of-date commandment.

I think a big reason why we struggle to see a need to honor our parents is because we long for a well overdue blessing.

I’m blessed to be raised by Christian parents. They are good people. My mom has taught special needs kids for 33 years. My dad has pastored the same church my entire life. They have sacrificed more for me and my brothers than any parent probably should.

But I lived the majority of my childhood radically smart-aleck. And over time the smart comments turned into disdain. As a teenager I was kind of mean. Probably because I am the younger of two highly successful brothers. I spent the majority of middle school and high school years parading around ballparks watching my brother play baseball. I quickly grew a thick callus and tried not to show it but I was longing and in desperate need of my parents’ blessing. I tried every way to find it. I acted up. I intentionally broke rules. I even attempted to accomplish all the things my other brothers accomplished – president of afterschool clubs, high GPA, play four sports. But nothing seemed to bring to me what it looked like my brothers were getting from mom and dad. I longed for a blessing.

It wasn’t until my sophomore year in college, I was preaching at a summer camp for LifeWay called Crosspoint. I remember my parents came to West Alabama University to hear me preach. After the worship service mom and dad looked at me with tears in their eyes and for the first time in my life I heard them bless me. All it took was to hear them say, “We are so proud of you!” All the pain, all the resentment, all the emotional energy – was released. I was finally somebody’s son. They had told me countless times before and in many fashions that they were proud of me but this was the first time I believed it. It wasn’t because I achieved something or earned a grade or received an award. I was just finally becoming me. I was at a place where I was comfortable enough to accept their blessing as well as their shortcomings and honor them for it.

Becoming who God made you to be might be the best way you could ever honor your parents.

God Speaks

2009-10-03T21:02:00.000-04:00

God speaks.

But God is not an all-night radio talk show of unbroken chatter. God, rather, speaks in episodes that punctuate seasons of silence. Think about the story of Samuel in the temple – he spoke to God but God is said to have spoken -- rarely. Or how about the Canaanite woman who asked Jesus to heal her dying daughter. Jesus seemed to include unnecessary moments of silence in the healing of the little girl.

There is no reason that we can see that explains why God speaks episodically. I too wonder why in some instances we hear God crystal clear and in other instances God is as opaque as the Hebrew alphabet. We only know that there is a mysterious rhythm to the speech and silence of God that uncoils from the wild and wise freedom of God.

If you are in period of your life where you are dying to hear the voice of God but you can’t seem to do it, I implore you – hold on – God does speak. It just comes in fragments.

Martin Luther King, Jr. tells a story in one of his books that in the middle of the Montgomery bus boycott, he was facing a personal crisis of confidence. With negotiations with the city bogging down and resistance from the white community strengthening, he was growing not only weary but frightened as well. He had received over forty telephone calls threatening his life and the well being of his family. Late one night, he returned home from a meeting only to receive yet another call warning him to leave town soon if he wanted to stay alive.

Unable to sleep after this disturbing threat, he sat at the kitchen table and worried. In the midst of his anxiety something told him that he could no longer call on anyone for help but God. So he prayed, confessing his weakness and his loss of courage. “At that moment,” he said later, “I could hear an inner voice saying to me ‘Martin Luther, stand up for righteousness. Stand up for justice. Stand up for the truth. And lo, I will be with you, even until the end of the world.’” It was, realized King, the voice of Jesus speaking a word of promise, a word of reassurance, a timely word of comfort and strength.

When you most need to hear God – you can bet God will be there. God may speak in fragments but they are timely. The trick is slowing yourself down to listen.

Revelation is what we call God speaking. Martin Luther King, Jr. had a revelation. God spoke.

But revelation is not us bringing ourselves to the awareness that we can see God. Revelation is rather God bringing us into an awareness that the heavens are preaching a word we could not know unless we gazed upon God. Revelation is not merely patterns to a fractioned speech, awaiting a science sophisticated enough to map it, but a shout in the street crying a news we could not have anticipated, news that God is at work in creation, providing and saving, reconciling and judging, nurturing and healing.

God speaks. You just have to learn to listen for it.