The other day Kelly let me in on a conversation swirling around her mommy world: is our culture (specifically parents in our culture) overly-concerned about safety?
From obsession with chemicals in foods to mandatory bike helmets to the doing-away with all the "cool" playground equipment that we had when we were kids, have we just become flat-out paranoid?
My take is that we are a bit paranoid, but that's just half of the equation.
As a culture, we are obsessed with perpetually pushing the envelope in terms of bigger, faster, more and more. Our insatiable demand doesn't always allow for considered evaluation of consequences.
So, for example, we create farms where we inject with hormones to bulk up the beef. But then years later we begin to wonder if the hormones are doing strange things to our kids. Ergo, witness the fresh wave of obsession with organic foods, particularly marketed to parents as safer alternatives to the aforementioned hormone-injected beef.
Jacque Ellul is a dead French guy who wrote prophetically about the consequences to a people when they focus on means rather than ends. He argued that the technological society loses its soul in the relentless pursuit of expediency without any regard to the larger and more important questions of meaning and purpose.
As a technologically-obessesed culture, we will always be a bit bi-polar. We will always be making phenomenal advances that promise much. And we will be regularly reaping the un-intended and un-expected ramifications of those advances.
And for some of us in parent-land, that makes us a little bit overly-obsessive about safety.
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
Rosie, Zoe, and the Power of Naming
My wife is brilliant.
Until today, our three-year-old and one-year-old girls had an armada of dolls but only one had a name. Zoe had named her little Mafin (we're hoping her naming skills improve before she pro-creates) when she was just a year old.
What this means is that Mafin is the most favored doll of both of them...which means lots of fights.
So this morning, Kelly decided to put an end to the chaos.
"We need to name another baby," she said in a God-inspired moment. "Let's call this one Rosie."
She handed the newly-coined Rosie over to Emma Kate. She beamed, gave the doll a big hug, and shouted, "Rosie!"
Problem solved.
I think there's something here to be said about the power we have in naming.
When Kelly was teaching, she avoided talking to the teacher who had her students the year before. She didn't want to get a name handed to her. She wanted the student to have the space to form their own name...maybe even make a new one for themselves.
When we name our job or neighbor or spouse or people we work with as "bad," it can be next to impossible to shake it.
When we name something "good," it can call forth the good present...even if there isn't much there.
Adam's first job was to name the animals. Our naming has power, for good or for ill, to participate in creating reality.
Choose wisely.
Until today, our three-year-old and one-year-old girls had an armada of dolls but only one had a name. Zoe had named her little Mafin (we're hoping her naming skills improve before she pro-creates) when she was just a year old.
What this means is that Mafin is the most favored doll of both of them...which means lots of fights.
So this morning, Kelly decided to put an end to the chaos.
"We need to name another baby," she said in a God-inspired moment. "Let's call this one Rosie."
She handed the newly-coined Rosie over to Emma Kate. She beamed, gave the doll a big hug, and shouted, "Rosie!"
Problem solved.
I think there's something here to be said about the power we have in naming.
When Kelly was teaching, she avoided talking to the teacher who had her students the year before. She didn't want to get a name handed to her. She wanted the student to have the space to form their own name...maybe even make a new one for themselves.
When we name our job or neighbor or spouse or people we work with as "bad," it can be next to impossible to shake it.
When we name something "good," it can call forth the good present...even if there isn't much there.
Adam's first job was to name the animals. Our naming has power, for good or for ill, to participate in creating reality.
Choose wisely.
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
The Woman at the Well In Madison
A year ago this time, I came back from a week in Madison brimming with excitement. I had participated with fifteen other IV staff in a week of thinking and dreaming and praying about building healthy, growing chapters.
My enthusiasm carried me into the fall...where it was met with a harsh reality that didn't turn out anything like I thought it would. It wasn't all bad. The hardest part of it was what it revealed about my own soul.
So it was with a humble and cautious heart that I returned to Madison last week. I was set to participate in a situation much the same as last year--thinking about healthy growth. I wanted the results to be different. But I wasn't sure what that looked like.
The Scripture that came to mind was John 4, the woman at the well.
In that passage Jesus meets a woman in the heat of the day coming to draw water. In the course of the conversation we get a picture of this woman's checkered past--several husbands, living with someone who's not her husband.
This explains why she's drawing water when all the other women would generally draw water in the cool of the morning or evening. She's avoiding the town social and gossip scene.
So the well is her place of shame. It's her daily reminder that she's made mistakes and is now an outcast as a result. And it's significant that it's here, at this well of her shame, that Jesus meets her.
The well of shame is now the place where she has met "Messiah." Jesus makes one of his most direct and powerful self-identifying statements in all of Scripture that conversation.
And so I prayed that returning to Madison last week, this place that reminded me of my mistakes from the year before, might be a redemptive experience. That the Lord might meet me there.
And he did. I was disciplined in Scripture and prayer going into the week. I was disciplined in Scripture and prayer during the time there.
But most importantly, the Lord was good to meet me, to give perspective. I came back encouraged but not intoxicated, expectant but still recognizing the limits of my own plans.
Several weeks ago I argued that second chances weren't the same thing as true redemption. I still think that's true. But man, it feels good to have them.
My enthusiasm carried me into the fall...where it was met with a harsh reality that didn't turn out anything like I thought it would. It wasn't all bad. The hardest part of it was what it revealed about my own soul.
So it was with a humble and cautious heart that I returned to Madison last week. I was set to participate in a situation much the same as last year--thinking about healthy growth. I wanted the results to be different. But I wasn't sure what that looked like.
The Scripture that came to mind was John 4, the woman at the well.
In that passage Jesus meets a woman in the heat of the day coming to draw water. In the course of the conversation we get a picture of this woman's checkered past--several husbands, living with someone who's not her husband.
This explains why she's drawing water when all the other women would generally draw water in the cool of the morning or evening. She's avoiding the town social and gossip scene.
So the well is her place of shame. It's her daily reminder that she's made mistakes and is now an outcast as a result. And it's significant that it's here, at this well of her shame, that Jesus meets her.
The well of shame is now the place where she has met "Messiah." Jesus makes one of his most direct and powerful self-identifying statements in all of Scripture that conversation.
And so I prayed that returning to Madison last week, this place that reminded me of my mistakes from the year before, might be a redemptive experience. That the Lord might meet me there.
And he did. I was disciplined in Scripture and prayer going into the week. I was disciplined in Scripture and prayer during the time there.
But most importantly, the Lord was good to meet me, to give perspective. I came back encouraged but not intoxicated, expectant but still recognizing the limits of my own plans.
Several weeks ago I argued that second chances weren't the same thing as true redemption. I still think that's true. But man, it feels good to have them.
Monday, July 06, 2009
East Meets West on Northwest
I was in an airplane yesterday (Northwest--don't fly them, they charge you $15 for every bag you check), coming back from Madison and I got into an interesting conversation with a guy from India about the cultural differences he noticed between the U.S. and India. It gave me space to think about the things that I love and am concerned about for our country...all on the fourth of July holiday weekend.
His overall thoughts on American culture were positive. He noted, however, that Americans did not have as strong an emphasis on family bonds.
He also suggested that Americans did not have the value on education that Indians did. His take on the rapid rise to the world stage for India had to do with several generations of extremely well educated people. As companies were looking for places to expand, India had a groundswell of well-educated, hard-working people ready to hire...and for cheap, too.
Here again he noted the emphasis on the individual over the collective or family. In India, you study, no matter what your interests are. In America, if you're an artist, maybe you have more freedom to pursue that apart from classical formal education.
He felt that there was room here in his own family to try to bring together the best of both worlds--education and individual "empowerment."
I agreed with him that American individualism is both our strength and our downfall. My faith tradition sprang up from a culture that more highly emphasized the collective over the individual. As such, we often mis-read our own sacred texts, assuming that the "you" is the individual rather than the community. Our cultural lens throws us off.
I wondered about the educational piece. My experiences with Chinese and other eastern students is that the family and collective pressures often have a high toll on the students souls. If education and achievement becomes everything, then we forfeit our souls.
If our white temptation is to make ourselves gods, I wonder if the temptation in the east is to make the collective/the family god.
And lastly, the American education system has never been the best in the world and yet we've had vastly disproportionate economic impact around the globe.
That's because education does not always equal innovation. Our economic system has always had multiple on-ramps into it, and innovation and ideas and invention have always been a strong value, no matter who or what the source.
It is innovation that has driven our country's economic engine. The people at the top of the Dean's list often get there because they follow the rules. Innovators don't always follow the rules. Often, they're the C+ student who's brilliant but selectively interested.
I wonder if in an increasingly technological society, the need for education will increase and if we will finally pay for our inability to propel that "average middle" into a stronger academic track.
But at the end of a very engaging conversation on July 5th, I was glad to be a part of this messy, wonderful, obnoxious, turned around, innovative, upside-down country of ours.
His overall thoughts on American culture were positive. He noted, however, that Americans did not have as strong an emphasis on family bonds.
He also suggested that Americans did not have the value on education that Indians did. His take on the rapid rise to the world stage for India had to do with several generations of extremely well educated people. As companies were looking for places to expand, India had a groundswell of well-educated, hard-working people ready to hire...and for cheap, too.
Here again he noted the emphasis on the individual over the collective or family. In India, you study, no matter what your interests are. In America, if you're an artist, maybe you have more freedom to pursue that apart from classical formal education.
He felt that there was room here in his own family to try to bring together the best of both worlds--education and individual "empowerment."
I agreed with him that American individualism is both our strength and our downfall. My faith tradition sprang up from a culture that more highly emphasized the collective over the individual. As such, we often mis-read our own sacred texts, assuming that the "you" is the individual rather than the community. Our cultural lens throws us off.
I wondered about the educational piece. My experiences with Chinese and other eastern students is that the family and collective pressures often have a high toll on the students souls. If education and achievement becomes everything, then we forfeit our souls.
If our white temptation is to make ourselves gods, I wonder if the temptation in the east is to make the collective/the family god.
And lastly, the American education system has never been the best in the world and yet we've had vastly disproportionate economic impact around the globe.
That's because education does not always equal innovation. Our economic system has always had multiple on-ramps into it, and innovation and ideas and invention have always been a strong value, no matter who or what the source.
It is innovation that has driven our country's economic engine. The people at the top of the Dean's list often get there because they follow the rules. Innovators don't always follow the rules. Often, they're the C+ student who's brilliant but selectively interested.
I wonder if in an increasingly technological society, the need for education will increase and if we will finally pay for our inability to propel that "average middle" into a stronger academic track.
But at the end of a very engaging conversation on July 5th, I was glad to be a part of this messy, wonderful, obnoxious, turned around, innovative, upside-down country of ours.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Moving Beyond the Sponge
A couple of months ago I posted about breaking family and generational patterns of sin and brokenness. I suggest that the invitation of Christ is to participate with him in absorbing that sin rather than passing it along to the next generation.
In thinking more about this over the past week or so, I think that absorption language is good but not enough. It's not enough to talk about absorbing sin. That would seem to leave us with little recourse for actively addressing someone who has sinned against us.
Looking at Jesus, he not only absorbs sin but he also gathers it up in himself and returns blessing. This, I think, is the message of the Christian faith.
In our own lives, when we are sinned against or violated in any way, our natural inclination is to fight back (vengeance) or take it out on someone else (dis-placement).
But Jesus absorbs sin and brokenness in himself. And rather than repay it or pay it forward, he returns it with forgiveness and the invitation to be blessed in submission to himself. This is the heart of the invitation to not return evil for evil but return evil with good.
Of course, we are not up for this in and of ourselves. But Christ in us, the Holy Spirit given to us--these are the power we need to receive evil, absorb it, and then re-engage that same offender with favor and blessing, forgiveness and love.
This, of course, means gentleness. But it also means boundaries. It also means conflict and confrontation and rebuke--sometimes very strong rebuke. But we do all of this in love, in the same Spirit who speaks God's "no" to us in order to enter into his "yes."
So participating in Christ-the-sponge is helpful. But it's also critical that we understand the power of healthy, disproportionate and reckless engagement that can mean anything from gentle rebuke to significant distancing and boundaries.
In thinking more about this over the past week or so, I think that absorption language is good but not enough. It's not enough to talk about absorbing sin. That would seem to leave us with little recourse for actively addressing someone who has sinned against us.
Looking at Jesus, he not only absorbs sin but he also gathers it up in himself and returns blessing. This, I think, is the message of the Christian faith.
In our own lives, when we are sinned against or violated in any way, our natural inclination is to fight back (vengeance) or take it out on someone else (dis-placement).
But Jesus absorbs sin and brokenness in himself. And rather than repay it or pay it forward, he returns it with forgiveness and the invitation to be blessed in submission to himself. This is the heart of the invitation to not return evil for evil but return evil with good.
Of course, we are not up for this in and of ourselves. But Christ in us, the Holy Spirit given to us--these are the power we need to receive evil, absorb it, and then re-engage that same offender with favor and blessing, forgiveness and love.
This, of course, means gentleness. But it also means boundaries. It also means conflict and confrontation and rebuke--sometimes very strong rebuke. But we do all of this in love, in the same Spirit who speaks God's "no" to us in order to enter into his "yes."
So participating in Christ-the-sponge is helpful. But it's also critical that we understand the power of healthy, disproportionate and reckless engagement that can mean anything from gentle rebuke to significant distancing and boundaries.
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Wednesday Grab-Bag: Sandra Bullock, Michael Jackson, and NT Wright
*Kelly and I celebrated our 11th anniversary this past weekend. Nice dinner out and went to see "The Proposal." We both give it thumbs up--funny and it doesn't take itself too seriously. Sandra Bullock is hilarious in her role.
*I don't think I'm the only one singing Michael Jackson songs in their head all week long. Saw a piece on him on 20/20 on Friday night. One fairly recent interview he talked with Diane Sawyer about how much he missed the fans.
"You're in concert, 50,000 people singing this song that you wrote in a cramped hotel room on the road. Awesome."
The dude was about as freakishly gifted as they come. I wonder if some of his personal issues didn't stem from a life built around the applause of the crowd.
*I'm continuing my summer-time drinking-buddy love affair with N.T. Wright. Reading "Surprised by Hope," it's fantastic.
The past couple of summers my study has been more skill-set development (leadership, management, etc.). Doing a summer of more theological study causes problems.
In the past week I've had to turn off four podcasts of preachers or daily devotionals for theological reasons. Here-to-fore I had been able to play through their theological shakiness, but spending my free time thinking about this stuff makes it harder to do that with ease.
This gives me a little more sympathy for all you seminary-types who, after a semester or two in the ivory tower, think that you know just about everything there is to know about just about everything.
It's hard when your days are spent in theological reflection and study to let things slide when stuff gets said that's just not true...or is sort of true but not the full story.
And it's even harder when you're the self-appointed arbiter and decider of all such things. But you know, we've all got our crosses to bear.
*I don't think I'm the only one singing Michael Jackson songs in their head all week long. Saw a piece on him on 20/20 on Friday night. One fairly recent interview he talked with Diane Sawyer about how much he missed the fans.
"You're in concert, 50,000 people singing this song that you wrote in a cramped hotel room on the road. Awesome."
The dude was about as freakishly gifted as they come. I wonder if some of his personal issues didn't stem from a life built around the applause of the crowd.
*I'm continuing my summer-time drinking-buddy love affair with N.T. Wright. Reading "Surprised by Hope," it's fantastic.
The past couple of summers my study has been more skill-set development (leadership, management, etc.). Doing a summer of more theological study causes problems.
In the past week I've had to turn off four podcasts of preachers or daily devotionals for theological reasons. Here-to-fore I had been able to play through their theological shakiness, but spending my free time thinking about this stuff makes it harder to do that with ease.
This gives me a little more sympathy for all you seminary-types who, after a semester or two in the ivory tower, think that you know just about everything there is to know about just about everything.
It's hard when your days are spent in theological reflection and study to let things slide when stuff gets said that's just not true...or is sort of true but not the full story.
And it's even harder when you're the self-appointed arbiter and decider of all such things. But you know, we've all got our crosses to bear.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Star Wars on Betamax: Finding Our Place & Our Story
A decade ago, when the first Star Wars prequel was about to be released, I was about as amped as anyone that I knew. I had watched the oldest Star Wars on our family betamax (don't hate) at least fifty times, maybe one hundred. More Star Wars, more often, that's what I was saying.
And then, of course, they actually came out. And they were awful. And I went from "more Star Wars, more often" to "leave well enough alone."
There were many problems with it, of course. The story-line was terrible.
But one of the main problems was that they attempted to put supporting actors in main actors' roles. When you put supporting actors in main actors' roles, they simply cannot carry the story--even a good story. Perhaps especially a good story.
This is something like what happens with our own lives when we try to live as if we were the main actors. Our lives are meant to be a part of the Epic story, the story that's being written throughout the whole of the history of the cosmos.
When we try to live our lives as if we were the main actors instead of God, our lives ring hollow, they're fake, bare wisps and shadows of what was intended. Our lives become poor copycats of the grandeur and power and purpose that the Author intended.
Our work is to constantly be yielding the main actor role of our lives to the Lord. To follow his lead, rather than demand that it be the other way around. To walk in his story, rather than try to create our own.
The human catastrophe is that so many lives end up wasted, ruined, pointless because we demand that our lives be our own stories, with ourselves at the center. This is a recipe for a Star Wars, Episode 1 category of mistake.
And then, of course, they actually came out. And they were awful. And I went from "more Star Wars, more often" to "leave well enough alone."
There were many problems with it, of course. The story-line was terrible.
But one of the main problems was that they attempted to put supporting actors in main actors' roles. When you put supporting actors in main actors' roles, they simply cannot carry the story--even a good story. Perhaps especially a good story.
This is something like what happens with our own lives when we try to live as if we were the main actors. Our lives are meant to be a part of the Epic story, the story that's being written throughout the whole of the history of the cosmos.
When we try to live our lives as if we were the main actors instead of God, our lives ring hollow, they're fake, bare wisps and shadows of what was intended. Our lives become poor copycats of the grandeur and power and purpose that the Author intended.
Our work is to constantly be yielding the main actor role of our lives to the Lord. To follow his lead, rather than demand that it be the other way around. To walk in his story, rather than try to create our own.
The human catastrophe is that so many lives end up wasted, ruined, pointless because we demand that our lives be our own stories, with ourselves at the center. This is a recipe for a Star Wars, Episode 1 category of mistake.
Monday, June 29, 2009
Life or Productivity?
I'm with the kids today--living the crazy life for one day this week that my wife experiences most of the time. Museum this morning, rest time for the big kids, nap time for the little one, afternoon of playing, dinner, baths, bed.
In all of this, there's basically one hour (happening right now) where I get to decide what I want to do. Rest time for the big kids affords me sixty minutes of un-interrupted do whatever I want to time.
As this hour approached, I was calculating how much I could get done and all that needed to happen: a weekend and Monday morning's worth of e-mails un-answered, a bunch of other things that clamor for my attention.
In the midst of my rush of thoughts, my Bible and journal were on the table and the question arose: do I want to be productive or do I want to be holy?
Most days like today, the question doesn't even come up. Most days like today I just dive into my one hour of work like a frantic screaming banchee. So much to do! So little time to do it!
But the healthiest, most on-going result of my sabbatical this past school year was a fresh commitment to spending time with Jesus on a daily basis. Before anything else gets done, I spend time in Scripture and prayer.
Just now, that meant fifteen of my sixty went to journaling, reading the first part of Galatians 6, and praying for my family, the campus, and all the "stuff" that I typically do on a Monday office day, offering it to him.
The question of holiness v. productivity helped me to think more clearly about my priorities. I deeply believe that six months, a year, five years, ten years spent continually choosing wisdom, holiness, Jesus, and life over and above the tyranny of the urgent, the demands of stuff to do will make a difference in the quality of person that I'm becoming.
If I had spent those fifteen minutes answering e-mails, would I have even remembered that a week from now? How much of my best time and energies goes towards stuff that I don't even remember or really matter in the long run?
Of course, it's not always an either/or. But sometimes there is a clear decision to be made, a cost to choosing life.
Gotta' go, just thirty minutes left before the kids are released and I'm back on duty.
In all of this, there's basically one hour (happening right now) where I get to decide what I want to do. Rest time for the big kids affords me sixty minutes of un-interrupted do whatever I want to time.
As this hour approached, I was calculating how much I could get done and all that needed to happen: a weekend and Monday morning's worth of e-mails un-answered, a bunch of other things that clamor for my attention.
In the midst of my rush of thoughts, my Bible and journal were on the table and the question arose: do I want to be productive or do I want to be holy?
Most days like today, the question doesn't even come up. Most days like today I just dive into my one hour of work like a frantic screaming banchee. So much to do! So little time to do it!
But the healthiest, most on-going result of my sabbatical this past school year was a fresh commitment to spending time with Jesus on a daily basis. Before anything else gets done, I spend time in Scripture and prayer.
Just now, that meant fifteen of my sixty went to journaling, reading the first part of Galatians 6, and praying for my family, the campus, and all the "stuff" that I typically do on a Monday office day, offering it to him.
The question of holiness v. productivity helped me to think more clearly about my priorities. I deeply believe that six months, a year, five years, ten years spent continually choosing wisdom, holiness, Jesus, and life over and above the tyranny of the urgent, the demands of stuff to do will make a difference in the quality of person that I'm becoming.
If I had spent those fifteen minutes answering e-mails, would I have even remembered that a week from now? How much of my best time and energies goes towards stuff that I don't even remember or really matter in the long run?
Of course, it's not always an either/or. But sometimes there is a clear decision to be made, a cost to choosing life.
Gotta' go, just thirty minutes left before the kids are released and I'm back on duty.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Poll: In Honor of the King of Pop
In the wake of yesterday's news about Michael Jackson, I think it's time to post a couple poll question that I've been sitting on for a while:
1. What was the first music that you remember distinctively being "yours"--a gift given to you, something you purchased, something your parents gave you, etc.
2. What was the first music that you remember deliberately purchasing? Or maybe, first purchases in different mediums (vinyl, tape, cd, mp-3)?
I'm posting this today in honor of Michael because, like most of us Gen X'ers, Michael Jackson's Thriller album was the first album I remember being mine. My parents got it for me circa fifth grade, I think as a reward for a good report card.
Along the way I got a number of albums on vinyl--Prince's Purple Rain, Tears for Fears Everybody Wants to Rule the World (anyone remember the song "Shout?"), and the soundtrack to Beverly Hills Cop.
But the music that I first remember deliberately purchasing was a tape, Van Halen's 1984 (Jump was a favorite song) And later on cd: Beastie Boys, License to Ill.
Funny how I obviously purchased my first mp-3 much more recently, but somehow making the purchase at the Itunes store just doesn't quite have the same memory staying-power as buying music at the music store.
Perhaps that's fodder for a post for another day.
Okay, so now it's your turn (although this will probably work better on Facebook than here): What was your first piece of music that you remember as being "yours." What were your first purchases in different mediums along the way?
1. What was the first music that you remember distinctively being "yours"--a gift given to you, something you purchased, something your parents gave you, etc.
2. What was the first music that you remember deliberately purchasing? Or maybe, first purchases in different mediums (vinyl, tape, cd, mp-3)?
I'm posting this today in honor of Michael because, like most of us Gen X'ers, Michael Jackson's Thriller album was the first album I remember being mine. My parents got it for me circa fifth grade, I think as a reward for a good report card.
Along the way I got a number of albums on vinyl--Prince's Purple Rain, Tears for Fears Everybody Wants to Rule the World (anyone remember the song "Shout?"), and the soundtrack to Beverly Hills Cop.
But the music that I first remember deliberately purchasing was a tape, Van Halen's 1984 (Jump was a favorite song) And later on cd: Beastie Boys, License to Ill.
Funny how I obviously purchased my first mp-3 much more recently, but somehow making the purchase at the Itunes store just doesn't quite have the same memory staying-power as buying music at the music store.
Perhaps that's fodder for a post for another day.
Okay, so now it's your turn (although this will probably work better on Facebook than here): What was your first piece of music that you remember as being "yours." What were your first purchases in different mediums along the way?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Moving into Freedom From Guilt and Shame
All this is well and good. But how do we move beyond cognitively getting our minds around this (which for some of us is hard enough) but to actually inhabit this as reality, as the most true thing in the universe (which it is)?
A couple of thoughts:
1. The Spirit of God is not the Spirit of shame and guilt. God's Spirit is always the Spirit of faith, hope, and love who leads us into faith, hope, and love--even and especialy when disciplining us. This is foundational for how we relate to the voices in our heads.
2. The Spirit does bring conviction. Sometimes in our internal experience, it's hard to know if what we're feeling is genuine conviction or false shame and guilt.
If we've sinned, it is appropriate to feel guilt and shame--we are guilty and we have something to be ashamed of! The world in many ways would be a much worse place if no one ever experienced guilt or shame.
But the Spirit's goal in bringing conviction is always to lead us to repentance. The goal of the Spirit's "no" to us is to bring us to the "yes" of re-connection with God.
Therefore, if we have repented of our sin and the feelings of guilt or shame still linger, it's not the voice of the Lord we're hearing any longer. It may have been initially, but that work is done. We can confidently war against the guilt and shame at work in us after we've repented. Post-repentance, those voices (whether they were true convictionn initially or not) are not the servants of the Lord.
3. The process of forgiving ourselves (i.e. dealing with our guilt) is just that--a process. There have been times when I've been so angry with someone that I've needed God to help me to forgive them just 500 times that day. And by his grace, tomorrow it'll just be 450 times.
Similarly with us. Embracing forgiveness offered to us by the Father for ourselves might require that we fight for it, work for it, and remind ourselves 500 times today that we are forgiven. By God's grace, perhaps tomorrow it'll just be 450 times.
4. If guilt is focused on the past, shame is often focused on our present and future. Am I man or woman enough to deal with the present or future challenges? Do I have anything in me that is valuable or worthwhile?
The gospel says both "no" and "yes" to this question.
First, the no. In and of ourselves, we cannot do what is required of us, least of all what is required of us by God. Our flesh and our gifts and abilities, no matter how well-developed or disciplined or cultivated, cannot do the work required by God.
But yes, by God's grace, we can do the work that he has prepared in advance for us to do because it is not just us doing it. Paul is adamant throughout the NT that it is God's grace working through him, the Spirit working in him, God at work in him.
It is this fresh inhabiting, indwelling of God that empowers us, enables us to rise to the challenges of our lives. We live out of the new name he has given us, and in that, we are confident to move ahead.
5. We need community to speak all this back to us, because we will forget it.
If we have not spoken the gospel of grace, forgiveness, new name, the Spirit's work in us, to one another, we have failed to be the community and family of God that he has called us to be.
A couple of thoughts:
1. The Spirit of God is not the Spirit of shame and guilt. God's Spirit is always the Spirit of faith, hope, and love who leads us into faith, hope, and love--even and especialy when disciplining us. This is foundational for how we relate to the voices in our heads.
2. The Spirit does bring conviction. Sometimes in our internal experience, it's hard to know if what we're feeling is genuine conviction or false shame and guilt.
If we've sinned, it is appropriate to feel guilt and shame--we are guilty and we have something to be ashamed of! The world in many ways would be a much worse place if no one ever experienced guilt or shame.
But the Spirit's goal in bringing conviction is always to lead us to repentance. The goal of the Spirit's "no" to us is to bring us to the "yes" of re-connection with God.
Therefore, if we have repented of our sin and the feelings of guilt or shame still linger, it's not the voice of the Lord we're hearing any longer. It may have been initially, but that work is done. We can confidently war against the guilt and shame at work in us after we've repented. Post-repentance, those voices (whether they were true convictionn initially or not) are not the servants of the Lord.
3. The process of forgiving ourselves (i.e. dealing with our guilt) is just that--a process. There have been times when I've been so angry with someone that I've needed God to help me to forgive them just 500 times that day. And by his grace, tomorrow it'll just be 450 times.
Similarly with us. Embracing forgiveness offered to us by the Father for ourselves might require that we fight for it, work for it, and remind ourselves 500 times today that we are forgiven. By God's grace, perhaps tomorrow it'll just be 450 times.
4. If guilt is focused on the past, shame is often focused on our present and future. Am I man or woman enough to deal with the present or future challenges? Do I have anything in me that is valuable or worthwhile?
The gospel says both "no" and "yes" to this question.
First, the no. In and of ourselves, we cannot do what is required of us, least of all what is required of us by God. Our flesh and our gifts and abilities, no matter how well-developed or disciplined or cultivated, cannot do the work required by God.
But yes, by God's grace, we can do the work that he has prepared in advance for us to do because it is not just us doing it. Paul is adamant throughout the NT that it is God's grace working through him, the Spirit working in him, God at work in him.
It is this fresh inhabiting, indwelling of God that empowers us, enables us to rise to the challenges of our lives. We live out of the new name he has given us, and in that, we are confident to move ahead.
5. We need community to speak all this back to us, because we will forget it.
If we have not spoken the gospel of grace, forgiveness, new name, the Spirit's work in us, to one another, we have failed to be the community and family of God that he has called us to be.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Freedom from Guilt and Shame for my 7-Eleven Employees
Sunday I'm preaching at Raleigh Chinese Christian Church--it's the English service, for those of you who are concerned that my Mandarin and Cantonese might be a bit rusty.
I'm re-working a talk that I've given twice before because the concepts continue to be fresh and needful for me: Freedom from Shame and Guilt.
I've posted on this each time that I've given this talk, but since blog readers turnover faster than the employees at your local 7-Eleven, I want to gather up some thoughts from previous posts and then share some fresh developments tomorrow.
The reason why a talk on shame and guilt matters is because all of us hear the voices. Those voices in our heads speak to us about our past mistakes (that's guilt) or our current deficits of ability or character (that's shame).
Guilt is feeling bad about something you've done. Shame is feeling bad about who you are.
Since we all hear voices, and we generally don't like what they tell us, we all have various strategies to deal with our voices:
In fact, if it's up to us to figure out a way to quiet the voices, then we're dead. Nothing we can do will silence them.
The Christian story has a fresh invitation for us: it's not all about you. Jesus is Lord, not you. And that's good news because that means that it's not all on you to try to silence the voices of guilt and shame.
To live under the gracious umbrella of the Lordship of Christ is to be freed from the onerous and impossible task of trying to take make up for your past. If Jesus is Lord, then you no longer have the last word on you; Jesus does. If Jesus is Lord then he is Lord over all of you: present, past, and future.
If Jesus is Lord then your life is not your own and your future is not yours to worry about and your past is not yours, not even yours to regret. Let me say that again: if all of you is given over to Jesus, then your past is not yours any more, not even yours to regret. It is in Jesus to redeem, to heal, to mend, to fix, to make whole, to wash away. It is not up to you to fix it.
The solution to all our guilt and shame is not more work, but rather a cessation of work. Freedom is found in submission. Submission to the Lordship of Christ. That's the good news of the Christian story. That's the invitation that all of us are called to respond to.
I'm re-working a talk that I've given twice before because the concepts continue to be fresh and needful for me: Freedom from Shame and Guilt.
I've posted on this each time that I've given this talk, but since blog readers turnover faster than the employees at your local 7-Eleven, I want to gather up some thoughts from previous posts and then share some fresh developments tomorrow.
The reason why a talk on shame and guilt matters is because all of us hear the voices. Those voices in our heads speak to us about our past mistakes (that's guilt) or our current deficits of ability or character (that's shame).
Guilt is feeling bad about something you've done. Shame is feeling bad about who you are.
Since we all hear voices, and we generally don't like what they tell us, we all have various strategies to deal with our voices:
- Religious stuff--maybe if I get God to like me, it'll all be okay
- Hedonism/Escapism--how many drinks or sexual experiences or highs or movies or hours of sporting events or hours of video games does it take to quiet the voices?
- Moralism--never mind religion, I'll just try to be good enough to prove something to whoever that is that's talking to me about my shortcomings
- Activism--if I save enough whales, I'll make up for what I did
- Work-a-holism--if I make it through law school or dental school or med school or if I make partner or manager or vice-president or make enough money, then I'll prove myself
In fact, if it's up to us to figure out a way to quiet the voices, then we're dead. Nothing we can do will silence them.
The Christian story has a fresh invitation for us: it's not all about you. Jesus is Lord, not you. And that's good news because that means that it's not all on you to try to silence the voices of guilt and shame.
To live under the gracious umbrella of the Lordship of Christ is to be freed from the onerous and impossible task of trying to take make up for your past. If Jesus is Lord, then you no longer have the last word on you; Jesus does. If Jesus is Lord then he is Lord over all of you: present, past, and future.
If Jesus is Lord then your life is not your own and your future is not yours to worry about and your past is not yours, not even yours to regret. Let me say that again: if all of you is given over to Jesus, then your past is not yours any more, not even yours to regret. It is in Jesus to redeem, to heal, to mend, to fix, to make whole, to wash away. It is not up to you to fix it.
The solution to all our guilt and shame is not more work, but rather a cessation of work. Freedom is found in submission. Submission to the Lordship of Christ. That's the good news of the Christian story. That's the invitation that all of us are called to respond to.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
No Attention Span Needed
My friend Margaret sent me this video after my post last week about my obsession with my cell phone. He's talking about the effect that media culture has on our souls.
As if to prove his point, about half-way through this really thoughtful and engaging 8-minute clip, I started to write an e-mail. Oh, the irony.
Check it out, stick with it, it's not bad...for a Wheaton guy.
Okay, after a couple of failed attempts at my first post with a video embeded, I'm realizing that I don't really know what the crap I'm doing and I'll have to get some help. Either I'm doing something wrong or it's just not working.
Sorry, here's the link, maybe one of you can help me figure out how to actually put it here in the body of my post: No Attention Span Needed
As if to prove his point, about half-way through this really thoughtful and engaging 8-minute clip, I started to write an e-mail. Oh, the irony.
Check it out, stick with it, it's not bad...for a Wheaton guy.
Okay, after a couple of failed attempts at my first post with a video embeded, I'm realizing that I don't really know what the crap I'm doing and I'll have to get some help. Either I'm doing something wrong or it's just not working.
Sorry, here's the link, maybe one of you can help me figure out how to actually put it here in the body of my post: No Attention Span Needed
Monday, June 22, 2009
The Grandparent Genome Project
After spending this weekend with the wife and kids at my parents house, I believe I'm ready to go public with my theory on what happens when the people who I formerly referred to as "my parents" become this thing called "the grandparent."
The findings are still in their infancy, but here's what we believe might be happening.
Upon hearing the first shrill cry of the first grandchild, the pituitary in the specimen heretofore referred to as "the parent" releases an unprecedented number of endorphins. They become "the grandparent."
These endorphins have uncanny affects on behavior, memory, and relational patterns.
'
For example, the mother who formerly considered Rice Krispy Treats a breakfast treat and who considered Froot Loops to be a snare from the pit of hell, suddenly bends over backwards as "the grandmother" to ensure that no breakfast at her house goes without syrup, powdered sugar, cinnamon, chocolate, or a dizzying combination of all of the above.
Such behaviors can cause the human who formerly knew "the grandparent" as simply "the parent" to wonder who is this woman and what have they done with your mother?
Please do not be alarmed. Our findings show that in most cases, there has been no
extraterrestrial interference. We believe that for the most part, the extraordinary changes in behavior are the result of the grandparent genome.
Of course, in a small percentage of cases the grandparent genome appears to be absent and upon hearing the first shrill cry of the grandchild there is no endorphin release. In these cases, there is no over-the-top doting, no spoiling, no worshipping the ground the grandchild walks on.
Such cases, though rare, are the cause of much sadness and heartache to the specimens who are now the parents of the grandchild. Which perhaps goes to prove the necessity and importance of the grandparent genome.
Our findings, as noted earlier, are still in their infancy. We will release more information as it becomes available.
The findings are still in their infancy, but here's what we believe might be happening.
Upon hearing the first shrill cry of the first grandchild, the pituitary in the specimen heretofore referred to as "the parent" releases an unprecedented number of endorphins. They become "the grandparent."
These endorphins have uncanny affects on behavior, memory, and relational patterns.
'
For example, the mother who formerly considered Rice Krispy Treats a breakfast treat and who considered Froot Loops to be a snare from the pit of hell, suddenly bends over backwards as "the grandmother" to ensure that no breakfast at her house goes without syrup, powdered sugar, cinnamon, chocolate, or a dizzying combination of all of the above.
Such behaviors can cause the human who formerly knew "the grandparent" as simply "the parent" to wonder who is this woman and what have they done with your mother?
Please do not be alarmed. Our findings show that in most cases, there has been no
extraterrestrial interference. We believe that for the most part, the extraordinary changes in behavior are the result of the grandparent genome.
Of course, in a small percentage of cases the grandparent genome appears to be absent and upon hearing the first shrill cry of the grandchild there is no endorphin release. In these cases, there is no over-the-top doting, no spoiling, no worshipping the ground the grandchild walks on.
Such cases, though rare, are the cause of much sadness and heartache to the specimens who are now the parents of the grandchild. Which perhaps goes to prove the necessity and importance of the grandparent genome.
Our findings, as noted earlier, are still in their infancy. We will release more information as it becomes available.
Friday, June 19, 2009
For My Dad on Father's Day Weekend
When my dad retired in June of 1992 after over twenty years in the Navy, it was a big whompin' ceremonial deal.
My dad spent his last three years serving at the Pentagon. There's lots that he can't tell me about what he did during his time there, but suffice to say he had at least some face time with a group of guys called the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
The ceremony, held at our church in Northern Virginia, had plenty of high-ranking officials on the program offering speeches and celebration of many years of service.
But the biggest memory that anyone has of the retirement ceremony was something that happened that wasn't on the program.
About three-quarters of the way through the ceremony, a late-middle-aged gentlemen stood up and asked if he could come forward and say something. In a crowd packed with fully-regaled military officers and decked-out friends and family, he wasn't particularly official looking.
Everyone was a little nervous as he slowly moved to the podium.
He introduced himself; he was a janitor at the Pentagon. This did little to calm anyone's fears about what might be coming next.
"Me and the other janitors have been talking," he said, "and we're going to miss Commander Kirk." I think he then proceeded to present my dad with some kind of plaque or memento of some sort.
I had just graduated from high school a week or two earlier. At a pivotal point of my life, where I was about to step into a fuller sense of adulthood, I was taught a valuable lesson in what it means to really be a man.
My dad was a guy who rubbed shoulders with people of influence. But the janitors knew his name. And he knew theirs. That's the kind of man I want to be.
I hope some day that my own kids might be as proud of me as I was of my dad that day. Happy Father's day, dad, thanks for teaching me about the importance of not finding yourself too important.
My dad spent his last three years serving at the Pentagon. There's lots that he can't tell me about what he did during his time there, but suffice to say he had at least some face time with a group of guys called the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
The ceremony, held at our church in Northern Virginia, had plenty of high-ranking officials on the program offering speeches and celebration of many years of service.
But the biggest memory that anyone has of the retirement ceremony was something that happened that wasn't on the program.
About three-quarters of the way through the ceremony, a late-middle-aged gentlemen stood up and asked if he could come forward and say something. In a crowd packed with fully-regaled military officers and decked-out friends and family, he wasn't particularly official looking.
Everyone was a little nervous as he slowly moved to the podium.
He introduced himself; he was a janitor at the Pentagon. This did little to calm anyone's fears about what might be coming next.
"Me and the other janitors have been talking," he said, "and we're going to miss Commander Kirk." I think he then proceeded to present my dad with some kind of plaque or memento of some sort.
I had just graduated from high school a week or two earlier. At a pivotal point of my life, where I was about to step into a fuller sense of adulthood, I was taught a valuable lesson in what it means to really be a man.
My dad was a guy who rubbed shoulders with people of influence. But the janitors knew his name. And he knew theirs. That's the kind of man I want to be.
I hope some day that my own kids might be as proud of me as I was of my dad that day. Happy Father's day, dad, thanks for teaching me about the importance of not finding yourself too important.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
A Cell Phone, A Psalm, and Getting My Eyes Fixed
During our visit to Richmond last weekend I was perpetually trying to connect with people that we were trying to meet up with. So my cell phone was constantly buzzing with text messages and calls.
At one point my wife looked at me as I again glanced at my phone and said, "You've been looking at that thing all weekend long!"
That's made me think this week about my eyes, my thoughts, how I can so easily get fixed on something that makes me look down, that narrows my perspective.
I so easily get caught up in small annoyances or inconveniences in my life and think that they're major catastrophes.
Or maybe you'll resonate with me on this: I get so focused on scheduling for tomorrow that I miss what's happening right in front of me. I spent all day yesterday scheduling for the today that I'm now mentally dis-engaged with because I'm so focused on looking ahead to tomorrow! What a fool I am to never actually get around to living because I'm so busy planning on living in the future!
So I've been thinking off and on all week: where are my eyes fixed? what does this tell me about my heart, my thoughts, the things that shape me most?
Then this morning I was reading Psalm 25 and came across this line: "My eyes are ever toward the Lord."
When there's the convergence of a comment from my wife and a word from Scripture, that generally means that there's something here for me to pay attention to.
So I'm thinking about this today, thought I'd invite you in. Where are your eyes fixed? What does that tell you about your heart, your thoughts, the things that are shaping you most right now?
At one point my wife looked at me as I again glanced at my phone and said, "You've been looking at that thing all weekend long!"
That's made me think this week about my eyes, my thoughts, how I can so easily get fixed on something that makes me look down, that narrows my perspective.
I so easily get caught up in small annoyances or inconveniences in my life and think that they're major catastrophes.
Or maybe you'll resonate with me on this: I get so focused on scheduling for tomorrow that I miss what's happening right in front of me. I spent all day yesterday scheduling for the today that I'm now mentally dis-engaged with because I'm so focused on looking ahead to tomorrow! What a fool I am to never actually get around to living because I'm so busy planning on living in the future!
So I've been thinking off and on all week: where are my eyes fixed? what does this tell me about my heart, my thoughts, the things that shape me most?
Then this morning I was reading Psalm 25 and came across this line: "My eyes are ever toward the Lord."
When there's the convergence of a comment from my wife and a word from Scripture, that generally means that there's something here for me to pay attention to.
So I'm thinking about this today, thought I'd invite you in. Where are your eyes fixed? What does that tell you about your heart, your thoughts, the things that are shaping you most right now?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Fifth Grade Social Dynamics and the Power of Invitation
I remember it well, in part because it was one of my few elementary school victories.
When I walked into my 5th grade class one early-fall morning, there was an envelope on top of the chair turned upside-down on my desk. Inside the envelope was an invitation. Jonathan Wilmeth was having a birthday slumber party. And I was one of the five guys invited.
This catapulted my social standing in the class. All year long we had slumber parties, and I got invited to each one. Unfortunately, I peaked socially in fifth grade--it was all down hill from there until college!
If the Christian story is true, then a Relationship is at the center of the universe: Father, Son, Holy Spirit.
And if the Christian story is true, we are made in God's image, and therefore we are innately relational beings.
And if the Christian story is true, then what's gone wrong with the world is broken relationships: first with God, then with one another (between individuals, in families, between people-groups or nations, between the genders), then with the earth, and then with how we relate to things or work (think of the dad who loves his car or his investments more than his kids).
The Christian story calls those broken relationships sin.
So if a Relationship is at the center of the universe and broken relationships are what is wrong with the world, then one of the most explosive relational dynamics at our disposal is the power of invitation.
Invitation is an innately relational thing. To invite someone into a relationship with you is one of the most significant gifts you can give anyone. To invite someone to relate rightly to their world, their parents, to their GPA, to their car or kids, to their money, and especially to their Creator is at the heart of making broken things right in this world.
And of course, invitation to do the wrong thing has power to further complicate and destroy the creation.
Many of you have deep and lasting regrets because you took someone or something up on an invitation to do or try or relate in a way that was destructive, foolish, or just turned out poorly. You slept with that person. You tried that business venture. You took on that project that sucked all your time and energy away from other things.
If we are innately relational beings, and broken relationships are what's wrong with the world, then the power we have for good or ill in invitation is one of the most overlooked relational dynamics in the world.
I think Jesus understood the power and importance of invitation. I think this is why he starts his ministry with a powerful and essential invitation: "Come, follow me."
When I walked into my 5th grade class one early-fall morning, there was an envelope on top of the chair turned upside-down on my desk. Inside the envelope was an invitation. Jonathan Wilmeth was having a birthday slumber party. And I was one of the five guys invited.
This catapulted my social standing in the class. All year long we had slumber parties, and I got invited to each one. Unfortunately, I peaked socially in fifth grade--it was all down hill from there until college!
If the Christian story is true, then a Relationship is at the center of the universe: Father, Son, Holy Spirit.
And if the Christian story is true, we are made in God's image, and therefore we are innately relational beings.
And if the Christian story is true, then what's gone wrong with the world is broken relationships: first with God, then with one another (between individuals, in families, between people-groups or nations, between the genders), then with the earth, and then with how we relate to things or work (think of the dad who loves his car or his investments more than his kids).
The Christian story calls those broken relationships sin.
So if a Relationship is at the center of the universe and broken relationships are what is wrong with the world, then one of the most explosive relational dynamics at our disposal is the power of invitation.
Invitation is an innately relational thing. To invite someone into a relationship with you is one of the most significant gifts you can give anyone. To invite someone to relate rightly to their world, their parents, to their GPA, to their car or kids, to their money, and especially to their Creator is at the heart of making broken things right in this world.
And of course, invitation to do the wrong thing has power to further complicate and destroy the creation.
Many of you have deep and lasting regrets because you took someone or something up on an invitation to do or try or relate in a way that was destructive, foolish, or just turned out poorly. You slept with that person. You tried that business venture. You took on that project that sucked all your time and energy away from other things.
If we are innately relational beings, and broken relationships are what's wrong with the world, then the power we have for good or ill in invitation is one of the most overlooked relational dynamics in the world.
I think Jesus understood the power and importance of invitation. I think this is why he starts his ministry with a powerful and essential invitation: "Come, follow me."
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
The Fresh Prince of Bel Air Meets God's "Yes"
So if we're supposed to "revere" our parents, what do we do when our parents are destructive, manipulative, are flat-out evil, or (to quote some old school Will Smith before he was the Fresh Prince of Bel Air) they just don't understand?
Steve here called us to put up some real boundaries. But he framed it in a really unique way: we withdraw from our parents in situations like this in order to help them to stop sinning. In other words, we are revering them by blessing them with the freedom from the sin that so easily entangles.
I wanted to riff off of this for a second.
The way that the Scriptures talk about God is that his word to his creation and his people is always "yes." Yes to love, yes to goodness, yes to rest, yes to joy, yes to life, yes to joy.
The only time God says no to us is in response to our no. God comes to us and says "I want to bless you with every good thing in Christ." We say, "No, I don't want that, I want my own blessings on my own terms, thank you very much" And so God says: "No. I that won't actually bless you. No, here's the blessing I have for you."
God's only "no" is to our "no" so that ultimately we might receive his "yes." Put another way, God's no always serves his yes.
And so it should be with our relationships. We say "no" (in this case) to our parents when they are abusive or manipulative towards us, we do so that they might know the "yes" of God.
I encourage dating students to break up as soon as they are pretty sure it's not going to work out. That "no" frees them and the person they're dating to enter into the "yes" of begining to heal and move on.
In the New Testament, Paul commands the people of God to "take off" certain practices in order to "put on" these other, better, practices--saying no, in order to say yes.. "No" is never the last word in this life. God's no is always to serve the bigger yes.
When we are in step with the Spirit, we are called to be "yes" people. Ultimately in Christ we are full participants in God's whopping, giant "YES!!" to all his creation.
That means there's plenty of places where we have to say no. But it's always a no that serves a bigger yes. When we hold onto that yes, we are free and joyful people, indeed.
Steve here called us to put up some real boundaries. But he framed it in a really unique way: we withdraw from our parents in situations like this in order to help them to stop sinning. In other words, we are revering them by blessing them with the freedom from the sin that so easily entangles.
I wanted to riff off of this for a second.
The way that the Scriptures talk about God is that his word to his creation and his people is always "yes." Yes to love, yes to goodness, yes to rest, yes to joy, yes to life, yes to joy.
The only time God says no to us is in response to our no. God comes to us and says "I want to bless you with every good thing in Christ." We say, "No, I don't want that, I want my own blessings on my own terms, thank you very much" And so God says: "No. I that won't actually bless you. No, here's the blessing I have for you."
God's only "no" is to our "no" so that ultimately we might receive his "yes." Put another way, God's no always serves his yes.
And so it should be with our relationships. We say "no" (in this case) to our parents when they are abusive or manipulative towards us, we do so that they might know the "yes" of God.
I encourage dating students to break up as soon as they are pretty sure it's not going to work out. That "no" frees them and the person they're dating to enter into the "yes" of begining to heal and move on.
In the New Testament, Paul commands the people of God to "take off" certain practices in order to "put on" these other, better, practices--saying no, in order to say yes.. "No" is never the last word in this life. God's no is always to serve the bigger yes.
When we are in step with the Spirit, we are called to be "yes" people. Ultimately in Christ we are full participants in God's whopping, giant "YES!!" to all his creation.
That means there's plenty of places where we have to say no. But it's always a no that serves a bigger yes. When we hold onto that yes, we are free and joyful people, indeed.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Richmond Re-Visited: Brittney Spears, Pastor Steve, and Leviticus
Over the weekend the whole fam returned from whence we came: a blitz through some friends, a wedding, and our old life back in Richmond. One of the many highlights from the trip was returning to the church that was our home for nine years, West End Pres.
During my nine years under the pastor, Steve Shelby, he taught me to apply the gospel in real-time. He also taught me much about how to speak and teach--honest confession of sin, hilarious stories, bringing it back to Jesus. He was a tremendous preacher before, and he's just gotten better since I've left.
Sunday he was vintage Steve--and I'm not just saying this because he told me afterwards that he reads my blog (it felt like Ansel Adams saying that he liked my photos or Brittany Spears saying I could write a mean pop-song or how Luke felt when Yoda told him, "no more training do you require").
He talked about the biblical command to honor (in Leviticus "revere") our parents. A couple of highlights here, some more thoughts tomorrow:
1. The word for "revere" used in the Leviticus passage is only used in two contexts: God and our parents. Think about this.
2. Our culture generally paints parents (particularly dads) as unhelpful or simply idiots. We are smarter than them, so of course we don't owe them anything.
3. But the biblical command does not leave it contingent on whether or not our parents are 'worthy' of reverence. There's no conditional clause here. We are commanded to revere, honor our parents, whether they deserve it or not.
That doesn't mean we jump every time they say to or that we put ourselves in harms way, but it's not about whether or not they deserve or have earned our reverence.
4. And that's because God has ordered the universe so that we can never experience true life apart from learning submission. If we will not submit our lives to God, we cannot know life.
So God has ordained the family unit to teach us submission. He has put us in our family for our good and his glory. How we respond to the place where he has put us is about our parents, but it is also about us. The family is our training ground for walking in submission to God.
During my nine years under the pastor, Steve Shelby, he taught me to apply the gospel in real-time. He also taught me much about how to speak and teach--honest confession of sin, hilarious stories, bringing it back to Jesus. He was a tremendous preacher before, and he's just gotten better since I've left.
Sunday he was vintage Steve--and I'm not just saying this because he told me afterwards that he reads my blog (it felt like Ansel Adams saying that he liked my photos or Brittany Spears saying I could write a mean pop-song or how Luke felt when Yoda told him, "no more training do you require").
He talked about the biblical command to honor (in Leviticus "revere") our parents. A couple of highlights here, some more thoughts tomorrow:
1. The word for "revere" used in the Leviticus passage is only used in two contexts: God and our parents. Think about this.
2. Our culture generally paints parents (particularly dads) as unhelpful or simply idiots. We are smarter than them, so of course we don't owe them anything.
3. But the biblical command does not leave it contingent on whether or not our parents are 'worthy' of reverence. There's no conditional clause here. We are commanded to revere, honor our parents, whether they deserve it or not.
That doesn't mean we jump every time they say to or that we put ourselves in harms way, but it's not about whether or not they deserve or have earned our reverence.
4. And that's because God has ordered the universe so that we can never experience true life apart from learning submission. If we will not submit our lives to God, we cannot know life.
So God has ordained the family unit to teach us submission. He has put us in our family for our good and his glory. How we respond to the place where he has put us is about our parents, but it is also about us. The family is our training ground for walking in submission to God.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Hitting the Rawest Nerve
Few things evoke so strong a reaction in us as someone taking our deepest fears about ourselves and speaking them back to us. We feel as though the curtain has been pulled back, we have been discovered, found out.
Sometimes the thing feared and spoken is true. Sometimes, it's a lie. It is almost always impossible to know the truth of the matter immediately.
I think this painful dynamic is what is actually at the center of what makes break-ups and divorces so incredibly painful. It confirms the deepest fear (in this case a certain lie) many of us are tempted to believe about ourselves: that we are unloveable.
Sometimes the thing feared and spoken is true. Sometimes, it's a lie. It is almost always impossible to know the truth of the matter immediately.
I think this painful dynamic is what is actually at the center of what makes break-ups and divorces so incredibly painful. It confirms the deepest fear (in this case a certain lie) many of us are tempted to believe about ourselves: that we are unloveable.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Plausible Deniability
So really, the great thing about the fact that North Carolina has not (yet) passed a law outlawing cell phone use in the car is this: should one be talking to one's self in the car and realize that the person in the car next to you is staring, you can pick up your phone and pretend to be on speaker.
This is all speaking strictly hypothetically, of course.
Now if only there were some way to cover for nose-picking...
This is all speaking strictly hypothetically, of course.
Now if only there were some way to cover for nose-picking...
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