Once in college I met a fellow student while we listened to a pit preacher standing in the middle of campus scream at everyone, telling them all that they were going to hell. The pit preacher said he hadn't sinned in several years, not since he became a Christian.
The student I happened to be standing next to also said that she hadn't sinned in several years. I was part intrigued, part annoyed.
We entered into a conversation about how this could be true. She had the Spirit, she said, she knew the Scriptures, she just didn't sin any more.
I got even more annoyed.
"What about the fact that pride taints just about everything that most of us do? Or other ways that our motives get all screwed up? Or what about sins of omission? How about the sick person you don't care about or the racism that's going on in our culture that we don't take on?"
"No, no, no," she said, "It doesn't work like that. You're making the standard too high. "
And that, of course, was the only way she could really do this: by lowering the bar as much as possible so that she could clear it. That is actually how it does "work." She just had been sold a bill of goods...and she bought it.
This is actually similar to what is left of pop-culture Christianity in our country. Just be nice to people and God will take care of you, not judge you too harshly for anything as long as you try to do good things.
Last week a student asked me if he thought we could go a day without sinning. No, no, and no again.
Not a day, not an hour, not a minute goes by that sin is not at work in our heart, mind, soul. We need grace, forgiveness, repentance, healing, the gospel to be actively at work in us every second of every hour of every day of our lives.
There is sin at work in me right now that I'm not even aware of because Jesus has not yet revealed it to me. I'll discover it five, ten years from now when Jesus is ready to show me and he knows that I'm ready to repent of it. In the mean time I trust in him, not my own performance, to make me whole and holy.
Of course there is growth, and yes there is transformation. God is committed to finishing that work in me every day of my life.
I will not enter into the kingdom of heaven until I am perfected. All of my sin must be burned off, once and for all. None of it will be allowed to take up residence with me in the new heaven and new earth. No little pet sins allowed, nothing gets winked at, no knowing nods. All of it must be burned off so that the real me might flower. One day, I will actually be perfect.
But the work will not ever be done this side of the final redemption of all things when God makes his grand and final pronouncement: "Behold, I am making all things new!" Only then will we be free of this sin-cancer that shreds our souls, minds, imaginations, relationships, motives, hopes, and dreams.
Until then, we have to take the first step that any addict has to take: admit the problem. Apart from that, there can be no healing
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Stuck with DSL & Patient Expectation
One of the many benefits of being involved with campus ministry with InterVarsity is the opportunity to interact with other IV staff workers. The past several days I was in meetings with some of the most gifted and thoughtful people I know--the Eastern Carolina's area team, a.k.a, the Heavy Hitters.
One highlight for me of our quarterly-ish meetings is time together in Scripture. The other morning we were looking at Isaiah 61, one of the most poetically glorious passages in all of Scripture. Here's a small sample of it:
As we read through this passage, sat in it and discussed it, our overwhelming sense was, "Yes! We need this! In our lives, on our campuses! Let's see this roll out now!"
But the context calls us up short. These are promises made to people in captivity. And these specific promises will take many, many years to come to their fulfillment.
In fact, it could be argued that the promises don't ever become fully realized until Jesus comes. This is the scroll he picks to read in Luke 4, his debut sermon. After he reads this, he says, "today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."
So basically, this promise isn't fulfilled for many, many generations. And the question raised by one of my astute co-workers: what does patient expectation look like?
Does anything in our culture encourage this kind of a long obedience in the same, expectant, patient, hopeful, deliberate, eager waiting direction?
And the follow-up for us as campus ministers: does anything in our student's world help them to think in these terms?
In Jesus' time, the stuff the every-day person handled was soil, seeds, plants, harvest, wood, metal, and the like. Those things required patience over a long-haul in order to achieve hoped-for results. The crop to come in three months captured the daily imagination. Or the table that was forming out of the wood in the shop. Those were the daily imaginings of the average worker in Palestine.
The internet is what shapes our imagination today. Nothing waiting about it, unless you're stuck with a DSL connection which then takes all of two seconds instead of two tenths of a second to download something. Not exactly what the Scriptures are calling us to when it comes to a patient expectation.
All of this simply means that we must work all the more to root ourselves in the culture of the Land of the Trinity over and above the culture(s) of this world. We must learn how Life there works, how promises are made and actually kept there. What waiting looks like. What hoping looks like. What true loving looks like.
We must, in other words, soak ourselves in God. He is our good. And he promises us many things, few of which download as quickly as an internet site does. Where will we learn this foreign Land of the Trinity value of patient expectation?
Only by sitting with Jesus in prayer and in the Scriptures.
One highlight for me of our quarterly-ish meetings is time together in Scripture. The other morning we were looking at Isaiah 61, one of the most poetically glorious passages in all of Scripture. Here's a small sample of it:
1 The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,And it just keeps going, rolling out promise after promise of replacing brokenness with wholeness, sadness with joy, defeat with victory, loss with hope.
because the LORD has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,3 and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called mighty oaks,
a planting of the LORD
for the display of his splendor.
As we read through this passage, sat in it and discussed it, our overwhelming sense was, "Yes! We need this! In our lives, on our campuses! Let's see this roll out now!"
But the context calls us up short. These are promises made to people in captivity. And these specific promises will take many, many years to come to their fulfillment.
In fact, it could be argued that the promises don't ever become fully realized until Jesus comes. This is the scroll he picks to read in Luke 4, his debut sermon. After he reads this, he says, "today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."
So basically, this promise isn't fulfilled for many, many generations. And the question raised by one of my astute co-workers: what does patient expectation look like?
Does anything in our culture encourage this kind of a long obedience in the same, expectant, patient, hopeful, deliberate, eager waiting direction?
And the follow-up for us as campus ministers: does anything in our student's world help them to think in these terms?
In Jesus' time, the stuff the every-day person handled was soil, seeds, plants, harvest, wood, metal, and the like. Those things required patience over a long-haul in order to achieve hoped-for results. The crop to come in three months captured the daily imagination. Or the table that was forming out of the wood in the shop. Those were the daily imaginings of the average worker in Palestine.
The internet is what shapes our imagination today. Nothing waiting about it, unless you're stuck with a DSL connection which then takes all of two seconds instead of two tenths of a second to download something. Not exactly what the Scriptures are calling us to when it comes to a patient expectation.
All of this simply means that we must work all the more to root ourselves in the culture of the Land of the Trinity over and above the culture(s) of this world. We must learn how Life there works, how promises are made and actually kept there. What waiting looks like. What hoping looks like. What true loving looks like.
We must, in other words, soak ourselves in God. He is our good. And he promises us many things, few of which download as quickly as an internet site does. Where will we learn this foreign Land of the Trinity value of patient expectation?
Only by sitting with Jesus in prayer and in the Scriptures.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Book Review: How the Mighty Fall
Ten years ago Jim Collins wrote his definitive book on organization and management, "Good to Great: Why Some Companies Make the Leap, And Others Don't."
Collins combines a researcher's brain and a story-tellers wit. And his principles could be heard far and wide--from college basketball coaches to corporate board rooms to church staff meetings.
In fact so many non-profits used the book that Collins wrote a companion book for non-profits called "Good to Great and the Social Sectors."
It was one of my first organizational books and it shaped my thinking about more than most anything else.
Collins has recently unleashed his gifts once again in studying companies--only this time, his focus is on companies going in the opposite direction: as they go down.
"How the Mighty Fall" chronicles the demise of several formerly great companies, including several that had been featured a decade earlier in "Good to Great."
The core insight gleaned from the research is that contrary to what would be expected, great companies didn't collapse due to apathy. They collapsed because they over-reached.
Specifically, these companies that fell from greatness (i.e. Circuit City, r.i.p.) attempted to expand beyond their ability to put the right people in place to sustain the pace of growth.
Collins suggests that these companies confused greatness with bigness. A problem that I have absolutely no experience with.
Overall, this book makes a fantastic companion to "Good to Great" and provides spectacular cautions to people who are prone to push too hard towards growth.
Check it out if you're in any place of influence or leadership in your work, church, or other ministry.
Collins combines a researcher's brain and a story-tellers wit. And his principles could be heard far and wide--from college basketball coaches to corporate board rooms to church staff meetings.
In fact so many non-profits used the book that Collins wrote a companion book for non-profits called "Good to Great and the Social Sectors."
It was one of my first organizational books and it shaped my thinking about more than most anything else.
Collins has recently unleashed his gifts once again in studying companies--only this time, his focus is on companies going in the opposite direction: as they go down.
"How the Mighty Fall" chronicles the demise of several formerly great companies, including several that had been featured a decade earlier in "Good to Great."
The core insight gleaned from the research is that contrary to what would be expected, great companies didn't collapse due to apathy. They collapsed because they over-reached.
Specifically, these companies that fell from greatness (i.e. Circuit City, r.i.p.) attempted to expand beyond their ability to put the right people in place to sustain the pace of growth.
Collins suggests that these companies confused greatness with bigness. A problem that I have absolutely no experience with.
Overall, this book makes a fantastic companion to "Good to Great" and provides spectacular cautions to people who are prone to push too hard towards growth.
Check it out if you're in any place of influence or leadership in your work, church, or other ministry.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Gender, Humor, and Public Speaking
The last couple of weeks we've had a couple of fantastic speakers at large group. They've both been women.
This has sparked an ongoing conversation with my wife about the challenge for women to find good models for public speaking. This is especially true in evangelical-Christianity land, where I spend most of my time...and especially to find good models for speaking to mixed-gendered audiences versus women-only audiences.
This has gotten me thinking about who shapes and decides what makes for a good public speaker. Which of course has gotten me thinking about comedians.
And here the market is decidedly male-dominated. Jay Leno, David Letterman, Jerry Seinfeld, the Saturday Night Live crew past and present is largely male-dominated, "The Office" is, I believe, written by men and it's certainly a male-dominated culture that it's mocking.
There are certainly huge exceptions--Tina Fey, for example. But a couple of the more notable exceptions are Ellen Degeneress and Rosie O'Donnell.
Of course I'm not saying women can't be funny or that women can't be funny and be straight. I'm saying that humor is a huge part of how we communicate and connect and evaluate public speakers in our culture. And the men who dominate the humor market shape how we think about who's funny and who's not.
My guess is that as evangelicals in our country become more open to women teachers and pastors we'll see more and a wider variety of women who can serve as models for younger speakers.
And it'll be interesting to see how they use (or don't use--see John Piper for a guy who's not exactly bringing the house down with humor but who has a huge following) humor as a way to connect with their mixed-gendered-audience listeners.
This has sparked an ongoing conversation with my wife about the challenge for women to find good models for public speaking. This is especially true in evangelical-Christianity land, where I spend most of my time...and especially to find good models for speaking to mixed-gendered audiences versus women-only audiences.
This has gotten me thinking about who shapes and decides what makes for a good public speaker. Which of course has gotten me thinking about comedians.
And here the market is decidedly male-dominated. Jay Leno, David Letterman, Jerry Seinfeld, the Saturday Night Live crew past and present is largely male-dominated, "The Office" is, I believe, written by men and it's certainly a male-dominated culture that it's mocking.
There are certainly huge exceptions--Tina Fey, for example. But a couple of the more notable exceptions are Ellen Degeneress and Rosie O'Donnell.
Of course I'm not saying women can't be funny or that women can't be funny and be straight. I'm saying that humor is a huge part of how we communicate and connect and evaluate public speakers in our culture. And the men who dominate the humor market shape how we think about who's funny and who's not.
My guess is that as evangelicals in our country become more open to women teachers and pastors we'll see more and a wider variety of women who can serve as models for younger speakers.
And it'll be interesting to see how they use (or don't use--see John Piper for a guy who's not exactly bringing the house down with humor but who has a huge following) humor as a way to connect with their mixed-gendered-audience listeners.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Super-You Must Die
The other day I was talking with a student who quoted a great passage out of Rob Bell's book, "Velvet Elvis."
In the book, Bell was talking about his early struggles as a pastor. One of them was that he felt the pressure to perform. He tried too hard to be super-pastor. "But super-pastor had to die."
Indeed, my friends. This is not just a problem for pastors. Many of us have super-us's in our imaginations. Those super-sized us's do not bless us. They are figments of our imaginations. They are "us" blown up exponentially beyond our ability to produce or perform.
Super-you must die. If she or he doesn't die, she or he will tyrannize you your whole life. And in the end, you're the one who dies. Cause of death? Suffocating under the ridiculous expectations of the super-sized you, a product of your own imagination.
Super-you must die. Otherwise, you play-act your way through life, trying to perform for that super-sized image, to live up to it. No genuine relating to anyone around you. No genuine relating to God.
Not a good way to spend your life.
In the book, Bell was talking about his early struggles as a pastor. One of them was that he felt the pressure to perform. He tried too hard to be super-pastor. "But super-pastor had to die."
Indeed, my friends. This is not just a problem for pastors. Many of us have super-us's in our imaginations. Those super-sized us's do not bless us. They are figments of our imaginations. They are "us" blown up exponentially beyond our ability to produce or perform.
Super-you must die. If she or he doesn't die, she or he will tyrannize you your whole life. And in the end, you're the one who dies. Cause of death? Suffocating under the ridiculous expectations of the super-sized you, a product of your own imagination.
Super-you must die. Otherwise, you play-act your way through life, trying to perform for that super-sized image, to live up to it. No genuine relating to anyone around you. No genuine relating to God.
Not a good way to spend your life.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Parenting Does Not Equal Coddling
A couple of weeks ago I was talking with a friend who had read a book about parenting. This author's axe to grind (all parenting books have at least one, sometimes multiple axes to grind) was that we're over-coddling our kids. They're not good at everything, why do we tell them that they are?
I'm inclined to agree.
Last weekend we wrapped up Zoe's under-four soccer league (go, Bullfrogs). We hosted a post-last-game brunch and Kelly picked up some little wooden frog picture frames for the kids and had their soccer picture in the frame. One dad commented that this hit the right note for a year-end celebration.
"I don't like it when all the kids get trophies," he said, "Growing up you got a trophy for actually winning something, not just for showing up."
I think that helping my kids come to terms with their limits and in-abilities is as important as encouraging them to discover their strengths and what they are good at. Embracing the inherent limitations of being human is a part of being a healthy human.
And it's crucial for the spiritual life. Apart from understanding the fundamental reality of our incompleteness, we will attempt to live in the illusion that we can be like God--the original lie spoken to our original parents.
My natural bent is towards super-encouragement. I'm not critical by nature--at least not in terms of what I vocalize. So perhaps this is simply about a healthy correction in my own temperament. And perhaps those of you who find it harder to express something positive need correction in the other direction.
But I think that calling us out as a culture on the cultural norm of lying to our kids about their super-human-ness might be needed. Learning to strike that right balance of affirmation and explaining "harsh realities" probably varies among your personality and what kind of kid you have...and is (like most things) a process.
So I'll be thinking on this during the winter as my soccer coach's whistle takes a rest for a few months. And I'm hoping that the Bullfrogs will re-gather next spring for another epic run at leap-frogging over the competition.
I'll just try not to talk it up too much.
I'm inclined to agree.
Last weekend we wrapped up Zoe's under-four soccer league (go, Bullfrogs). We hosted a post-last-game brunch and Kelly picked up some little wooden frog picture frames for the kids and had their soccer picture in the frame. One dad commented that this hit the right note for a year-end celebration.
"I don't like it when all the kids get trophies," he said, "Growing up you got a trophy for actually winning something, not just for showing up."
I think that helping my kids come to terms with their limits and in-abilities is as important as encouraging them to discover their strengths and what they are good at. Embracing the inherent limitations of being human is a part of being a healthy human.
And it's crucial for the spiritual life. Apart from understanding the fundamental reality of our incompleteness, we will attempt to live in the illusion that we can be like God--the original lie spoken to our original parents.
My natural bent is towards super-encouragement. I'm not critical by nature--at least not in terms of what I vocalize. So perhaps this is simply about a healthy correction in my own temperament. And perhaps those of you who find it harder to express something positive need correction in the other direction.
But I think that calling us out as a culture on the cultural norm of lying to our kids about their super-human-ness might be needed. Learning to strike that right balance of affirmation and explaining "harsh realities" probably varies among your personality and what kind of kid you have...and is (like most things) a process.
So I'll be thinking on this during the winter as my soccer coach's whistle takes a rest for a few months. And I'm hoping that the Bullfrogs will re-gather next spring for another epic run at leap-frogging over the competition.
I'll just try not to talk it up too much.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Rotting in Unforgiveness
In 2002 there was a string of sniper-shootings in the D.C. area. We were living in Richmond at the time, and the snipers furthest-south shooting occurred in Ashland, just about fifteen minutes north of where we were living.
Those of you who remember the case might remember that there was one false arrest a week or two before they caught them--that happened five minutes from the school where my wife Kelly taught fifth grade.
So I was moved today as I read about the execution of the sniper last night, seven years after his reign of terror ended with ten dead.
What was particularly striking was the quotes of the victims' families. One guy who's sister was killed said he felt no closure. His death was too quick and easy...and it didn't change anything. He was still bitter and reeling.
Another guy was talking about forgiveness. His brother had been gunned down. His quote was simple and profound:
For those of us who call ourselves Christ-followers, the call is even more severe: we must forgive others because we ourselves have been forgiven much. The only commentary that Jesus offers on his own model prayer in the gospels is about the forgiveness part: if we don't forgive others, God will not forgive us. Yikes.
If I had lost a family member to this guy, I have no idea how I would have responded to last night's execution. I pray to God that I might have the gift of grace to forgive.
But in the mean time, I've got my own, smaller ghosts that I've got to forgive and let go of. My un-forgiveness isn't affecting them one bit. I'm the one left rotting as a result of my un-forgiveness, not them.
And besides, if I don't practice with those smaller ghosts whose to say that I'd be able to forgive should something really serious come my way?
Those of you who remember the case might remember that there was one false arrest a week or two before they caught them--that happened five minutes from the school where my wife Kelly taught fifth grade.
So I was moved today as I read about the execution of the sniper last night, seven years after his reign of terror ended with ten dead.
What was particularly striking was the quotes of the victims' families. One guy who's sister was killed said he felt no closure. His death was too quick and easy...and it didn't change anything. He was still bitter and reeling.
Another guy was talking about forgiveness. His brother had been gunned down. His quote was simple and profound:
"One is that God calls for me to do that in the Bible and the second thing is related to that. If I don't, it rots me from the inside out. It doesn't really hurt John Muhammad or anybody that I have bitterness against."This, my friends is truth. Unforgiveness simply rots us from the inside out. What is this foolish illusion that we live under that unforgiveness, anger, nursing grudges does anything to anyone else except the corruption of our souls, the hardening of our hearts, and the closing off of our imaginations to the realities of love, grace, forgiveness and peace? It is worshiping at a god of our own self-destruction.
For those of us who call ourselves Christ-followers, the call is even more severe: we must forgive others because we ourselves have been forgiven much. The only commentary that Jesus offers on his own model prayer in the gospels is about the forgiveness part: if we don't forgive others, God will not forgive us. Yikes.
If I had lost a family member to this guy, I have no idea how I would have responded to last night's execution. I pray to God that I might have the gift of grace to forgive.
But in the mean time, I've got my own, smaller ghosts that I've got to forgive and let go of. My un-forgiveness isn't affecting them one bit. I'm the one left rotting as a result of my un-forgiveness, not them.
And besides, if I don't practice with those smaller ghosts whose to say that I'd be able to forgive should something really serious come my way?
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
What To Do When We Don't Get What We Think God Would Want
So when the same concept, issue or Scripture comes up a couple times within a couple days, I try to pay attention. And I often try to post on it--being the external processor that I am, blogging helps me to roll up my sleeves and engage with something...and sometimes it's helpful for others.
In Acts 16, Paul and his buddies are trying to go to Asia to speak the gospel there. Only one problem: God won't let them. The Scriptures twice say that the Spirit of the Lord kept them from doing so, that God would not allow them to do so.
Then Paul gets a dream, a man in Macedonia begging him to come and help them. So they go to Macedonia.
They land in Phillipi, and on the Sabbath they go looking for a place to pray. They bump into Lydia, "a dealer in purple cloth." But there's another little detail that's important: she's not from Phillipi. She's from Thyatira.
Thyatira is in Asia. The exact place Paul was prohibited from speaking the gospel.
Lydia was no small player in her world. She was basically a rich fashion designer. She had a house in Thyatira and in Phillipi. She traveled, she was successful. So instead of a random Jewish guy showing up in Asia to preach the gospel to strangers in a strange culture, the gospel arrives to Asia delivered in a limousine, a woman of power and influence and significant means.
The point is this: sometimes what looks to us like a closed door, sometimes what looks like a "no" from God, sometimes the thing that just doesn't make any sense to us at the time, the thing that we say "if I were God, I would want this to happen"--sometimes those things are going to get done indirectly rather than directly.
Sometimes God calls us to go to Macedonia to get the gospel into Asia. Sometimes God says a short-term "no" in order to say a long-term "yes." Sometimes, rather than the direct route that we think makes the most sense, God calls us to do a "bank shot" to get the job done.
The work of the pilgrim trying to figure all of this out is to wait, trust, submit, and believe. We don't always meet Lydia from Thyatira immediately after our preferred-option door gets closed. Things don't always come together quite so neatly in our lives--there will always be loose ends on this side of heaven.
But sometimes God allows us to see his method behind the madness. And he calls us to walk by faith and believe him, even when it takes us places that surprise, madden or confuse us.
In Acts 16, Paul and his buddies are trying to go to Asia to speak the gospel there. Only one problem: God won't let them. The Scriptures twice say that the Spirit of the Lord kept them from doing so, that God would not allow them to do so.
Then Paul gets a dream, a man in Macedonia begging him to come and help them. So they go to Macedonia.
They land in Phillipi, and on the Sabbath they go looking for a place to pray. They bump into Lydia, "a dealer in purple cloth." But there's another little detail that's important: she's not from Phillipi. She's from Thyatira.
Thyatira is in Asia. The exact place Paul was prohibited from speaking the gospel.
Lydia was no small player in her world. She was basically a rich fashion designer. She had a house in Thyatira and in Phillipi. She traveled, she was successful. So instead of a random Jewish guy showing up in Asia to preach the gospel to strangers in a strange culture, the gospel arrives to Asia delivered in a limousine, a woman of power and influence and significant means.
The point is this: sometimes what looks to us like a closed door, sometimes what looks like a "no" from God, sometimes the thing that just doesn't make any sense to us at the time, the thing that we say "if I were God, I would want this to happen"--sometimes those things are going to get done indirectly rather than directly.
Sometimes God calls us to go to Macedonia to get the gospel into Asia. Sometimes God says a short-term "no" in order to say a long-term "yes." Sometimes, rather than the direct route that we think makes the most sense, God calls us to do a "bank shot" to get the job done.
The work of the pilgrim trying to figure all of this out is to wait, trust, submit, and believe. We don't always meet Lydia from Thyatira immediately after our preferred-option door gets closed. Things don't always come together quite so neatly in our lives--there will always be loose ends on this side of heaven.
But sometimes God allows us to see his method behind the madness. And he calls us to walk by faith and believe him, even when it takes us places that surprise, madden or confuse us.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Keller on Work on a Monday Night
Over the past several days I've been listening to a podcast from Tim Keller, a pastor up in NYC who's got a sizable following in corners of my part of the Christian world. The podcast was a couple of years old on the subject of work. Some great stuff that has had me thinking as I've started this work week.
Here's some highlights from the sermon:
- Here's a working definition of work that he quoted from Dorothy Sayers: "work is the gracious expression of creative energies in the service of others."
- He goes on to quote Sayers' take on the problem with work in our culture: work is mostly seen as a way to make money or to achieve status.
That means that the actual work done is an appendage, an add-on. For example, doctors don't practice medicine for the joy of serving people. Doctors are doctors for the money and the social status. The patients are just the means to an end, not an end in and of themselves.
This is counter to the Biblical picture of work, where the work in and of itself is prepared in advance for us to do...and the work itself matters, not just the money it provides for us or the status it affords us in our society.
3. Keller proposes that as long as money or status are the primary motivators for our work, we will always take work either way too seriously (as we strive for more and more) or we will not take it seriously enough (as we get cynical and realize that it can't actually deliver what we want it to).
4. The proper role of work is in relation to God--that is, we are to work in order to please God.
He differentiates here brilliantly between working to appease God (i.e. the idea that God is perpetually ticked and we're scurrying around to keep him happy) v. working to please God--which is the Biblical command. In the latter image, God is on the look-out for things to delight in us about. He is easy to please, and our good work brings him joy.
5. Lastly Keller asserts that there's a couple of places that work can spring out from. One place is anxious drivenness--the life that puts too much weight on work. The other place is one of apathy--a life that is cynical of work.
A third option that he offers is work that springs from God's rest, the sabbath rest of God for his people. Work that springs from deep places of rest in the gospel of Christ is work that is truly life-giving. It is work in its proper place, for the right purposes.
And it springs from the gospel of Jesus, the good news that we are no longer bound by our own works to find favor with God and purpose in life. It is given to us for free in Christ, at great cost to him.
Work springing from rest sounds awfully appealing, doesn't it?
Looking back over the past couple of months, I can see all three of these motivations at work in my soul. Lots of places where I miss the boat on the right perspective and place of work.
Keller on a Monday evening reminds me that it's all about the gospel of Jesus making a difference in how I do e-mail, meet with students, prepare for meetings, make phone calls, and write reports.
I'd love for all of these things, not to mention loving my family and writing blogs and doing dishes and all the rest of it, to spring from a deep place of rest that energizes me for the good work prepared in advance for me to do.
Here's some highlights from the sermon:
- Here's a working definition of work that he quoted from Dorothy Sayers: "work is the gracious expression of creative energies in the service of others."
- He goes on to quote Sayers' take on the problem with work in our culture: work is mostly seen as a way to make money or to achieve status.
That means that the actual work done is an appendage, an add-on. For example, doctors don't practice medicine for the joy of serving people. Doctors are doctors for the money and the social status. The patients are just the means to an end, not an end in and of themselves.
This is counter to the Biblical picture of work, where the work in and of itself is prepared in advance for us to do...and the work itself matters, not just the money it provides for us or the status it affords us in our society.
3. Keller proposes that as long as money or status are the primary motivators for our work, we will always take work either way too seriously (as we strive for more and more) or we will not take it seriously enough (as we get cynical and realize that it can't actually deliver what we want it to).
4. The proper role of work is in relation to God--that is, we are to work in order to please God.
He differentiates here brilliantly between working to appease God (i.e. the idea that God is perpetually ticked and we're scurrying around to keep him happy) v. working to please God--which is the Biblical command. In the latter image, God is on the look-out for things to delight in us about. He is easy to please, and our good work brings him joy.
5. Lastly Keller asserts that there's a couple of places that work can spring out from. One place is anxious drivenness--the life that puts too much weight on work. The other place is one of apathy--a life that is cynical of work.
A third option that he offers is work that springs from God's rest, the sabbath rest of God for his people. Work that springs from deep places of rest in the gospel of Christ is work that is truly life-giving. It is work in its proper place, for the right purposes.
And it springs from the gospel of Jesus, the good news that we are no longer bound by our own works to find favor with God and purpose in life. It is given to us for free in Christ, at great cost to him.
Work springing from rest sounds awfully appealing, doesn't it?
Looking back over the past couple of months, I can see all three of these motivations at work in my soul. Lots of places where I miss the boat on the right perspective and place of work.
Keller on a Monday evening reminds me that it's all about the gospel of Jesus making a difference in how I do e-mail, meet with students, prepare for meetings, make phone calls, and write reports.
I'd love for all of these things, not to mention loving my family and writing blogs and doing dishes and all the rest of it, to spring from a deep place of rest that energizes me for the good work prepared in advance for me to do.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Sound Byte Grab-Bag: Showing Up, Battling Dismemberment, and Drawing Dinosaurs
Sound bytes from conversations from this past week with friends, family, students and co-workers:
*Success in the world of spiritual disciplines is not what happens after we show up, it's simply showing up as open-handed and available as we can be. All we can do is make ourselves available, it is God's work to speak words of grace.
We can attempt to manufacture warm-fuzzy feelings and we can remind ourselves of grace we have received in the past. But only God can speak fresh words of grace into our lives. It is not up to us to do this. Our work is to simply show up--that is success. The rest is up to Him.
*Knowing God's will is not a mine-field--one false step and we are dismembered. God has given us our gifts. He has prepared work in advance for us to put them to use. If we are seeking God, submitting all of ourselves to him, he will not let us go wrong. He will either redeem the decision or ordain it.
And sometimes I believe there is no "one right answer." Sometimes I think God just says to us with great joy in his child: "Choose. And I will bless you either way."
*The work of discipleship is really the battle for the imagination. The things that capture our imaginations are the things that we will build our lives around: fame, fortune, cars, boats, fishing, Fortune 500, Olympic gold, sex, retreat, weddings, love, or God.
As ministers of the gospel, we must have eyes to see not only what God is doing currently in someone's life. We must have holy imagination to speak a word of what it would look like if they were actually to allow him to do it.
*"That's a good drawing of a dinosaur daddy."
"Thanks, Zoe. You know, daddy's not really good at drawing but I like drawing with you."
"Why aren't you good, daddy?"
"Well, everyone's got things that we're good at and that we're not as good at. That's okay, that's how God made us."
"Oh...well, I'm good at everything."
"So far, Zoe, so far..."
*Success in the world of spiritual disciplines is not what happens after we show up, it's simply showing up as open-handed and available as we can be. All we can do is make ourselves available, it is God's work to speak words of grace.
We can attempt to manufacture warm-fuzzy feelings and we can remind ourselves of grace we have received in the past. But only God can speak fresh words of grace into our lives. It is not up to us to do this. Our work is to simply show up--that is success. The rest is up to Him.
*Knowing God's will is not a mine-field--one false step and we are dismembered. God has given us our gifts. He has prepared work in advance for us to put them to use. If we are seeking God, submitting all of ourselves to him, he will not let us go wrong. He will either redeem the decision or ordain it.
And sometimes I believe there is no "one right answer." Sometimes I think God just says to us with great joy in his child: "Choose. And I will bless you either way."
*The work of discipleship is really the battle for the imagination. The things that capture our imaginations are the things that we will build our lives around: fame, fortune, cars, boats, fishing, Fortune 500, Olympic gold, sex, retreat, weddings, love, or God.
As ministers of the gospel, we must have eyes to see not only what God is doing currently in someone's life. We must have holy imagination to speak a word of what it would look like if they were actually to allow him to do it.
*"That's a good drawing of a dinosaur daddy."
"Thanks, Zoe. You know, daddy's not really good at drawing but I like drawing with you."
"Why aren't you good, daddy?"
"Well, everyone's got things that we're good at and that we're not as good at. That's okay, that's how God made us."
"Oh...well, I'm good at everything."
"So far, Zoe, so far..."
Thursday, November 05, 2009
Will Smith, The Rock Cycle, and The Hope of the Futures
Every so often, I get a glimpse of the future of our country through an interaction with a student and it brings my heart great, great joy. This week, I had just such a moment.
Anna Herring, a sophomore who leads a small group Bible study on campus, told me about her geology professor's challenge: write a poem about the rock cycle and get five bonus points. In a moment of brilliance, she decided to write a rap.
To the tune of "The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire."
Given my love for all things Will Smith, I told her that I wanted to see it. It's brilliant. And tomorrow she gets another five bonus points if she'll perform it in front of the whole class of over a hundred people. She bought a hat to wear crooked and sideways.
Without further ado, so that all of you might also be as encouraged about the future of our country as I am, and with the permission of the author, here it is:
Rocks Don’t Just Form Thin Air
To the tune of the “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air”
Now this is the story all about how
The rock cycle turns round and round
It takes more than a minute
Thousands of years to prepare
You know rocks don’t just form from thin air
Deep in the earth, formed and raised
In the mantle magma spends most of its days
Meltin’ out bubblin’ –temperatures’ are not too cool
Pressure is important, composition too
When a couple of plates that are up to no good
Start converging and diverging in the neighborhood
Pushing together, pulling apart.-tectonic forces are makin a fuss
Between the plate boundaries magma flows through the crust
Continental Riffs and hot spots also have a say
In the location as to where igneous rocks form today
For that hot, molten rock-crystalization is the ticket
Intrusive forms inside, but extrusive?- you can kick it’
Sedimentary rocks? Yo, they’re rad.
Based on how they form- they’re assigned to a different class:
Biochemical, chemical, organic, and clastic..
Hmmmm, that’s right. Sed rocks are fantastic.
Weathering starts the process and all that
Mechanical breaks rocks up with a snap!
Chemical, well…
It changes the rock’s material
Now our rock’s in pieces just like cereal
Now it’s time to put the sediment in motion
By running water and wind- we like to call it erosion.
And I’ll say because I need an A in this class,
That erosion puts us in a fine position
For sediment sorting, rounding and deposition
When the layers of sediment and organic matter are here
The process of lithification is very very near
If anything I can’t say that sed rocks are rare
And I am sure that this rap has made you really care!
Hey now, I’m not just some dumb jock
Add heat and pressure to that old preexistin’ rock
Whoa that’s metamorphism-
And thus, metamorphic rocks are formed. Do you dare?
I told you rocks don’t form from thin air!
To quote the great philosopher Whitney Houston: I believe the children are the future. Teach them well, and let them lead the way.
Anna Herring, a sophomore who leads a small group Bible study on campus, told me about her geology professor's challenge: write a poem about the rock cycle and get five bonus points. In a moment of brilliance, she decided to write a rap.
To the tune of "The Fresh Prince of Bel Aire."
Given my love for all things Will Smith, I told her that I wanted to see it. It's brilliant. And tomorrow she gets another five bonus points if she'll perform it in front of the whole class of over a hundred people. She bought a hat to wear crooked and sideways.
Without further ado, so that all of you might also be as encouraged about the future of our country as I am, and with the permission of the author, here it is:
Rocks Don’t Just Form Thin Air
To the tune of the “Fresh Prince of Bel-Air”
Now this is the story all about how
The rock cycle turns round and round
It takes more than a minute
Thousands of years to prepare
You know rocks don’t just form from thin air
Deep in the earth, formed and raised
In the mantle magma spends most of its days
Meltin’ out bubblin’ –temperatures’ are not too cool
Pressure is important, composition too
When a couple of plates that are up to no good
Start converging and diverging in the neighborhood
Pushing together, pulling apart.-tectonic forces are makin a fuss
Between the plate boundaries magma flows through the crust
Continental Riffs and hot spots also have a say
In the location as to where igneous rocks form today
For that hot, molten rock-crystalization is the ticket
Intrusive forms inside, but extrusive?- you can kick it’
Sedimentary rocks? Yo, they’re rad.
Based on how they form- they’re assigned to a different class:
Biochemical, chemical, organic, and clastic..
Hmmmm, that’s right. Sed rocks are fantastic.
Weathering starts the process and all that
Mechanical breaks rocks up with a snap!
Chemical, well…
It changes the rock’s material
Now our rock’s in pieces just like cereal
Now it’s time to put the sediment in motion
By running water and wind- we like to call it erosion.
And I’ll say because I need an A in this class,
That erosion puts us in a fine position
For sediment sorting, rounding and deposition
When the layers of sediment and organic matter are here
The process of lithification is very very near
If anything I can’t say that sed rocks are rare
And I am sure that this rap has made you really care!
Hey now, I’m not just some dumb jock
Add heat and pressure to that old preexistin’ rock
Whoa that’s metamorphism-
And thus, metamorphic rocks are formed. Do you dare?
I told you rocks don’t form from thin air!
To quote the great philosopher Whitney Houston: I believe the children are the future. Teach them well, and let them lead the way.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
Overcoming the (Male-ish) Curse of Being Job's Friends
There seems to be a universal gene in men to attempt to fix people when they come to us with problems or concerns. Some women also have inherited this unfortunate gene, but with guys it seems to be almost hard-wired.
If you've never read the book of Job before, it's a maddening and gripping piece of Scripture. Calamity strikes Job. His friends show up. They spend most of the book telling him the calamity must all be his fault--he did something to deserve it.
Job refuses that explanation and demands that God answer him. God shows up at the end, doesn't ever answer his question, reminds him that God is God and he is not. Job submits to the mystery of God's sovereignty and his life is restored to an even greater degree of blessing.
But the point for today is this: his friends were idiots. They insisted on trying to fix Job and counsel him when their self-perceived insight and wisdom and advice was completely wrong.
The other day I was with a good friend of mine. He was sharing some challenges in his life. I found myself talking, and talking, and talking some more in response. I was trying to fix stuff. Last year I had students who complained that I too quickly and easily tried to offer them advice rather than really listening to them. I was trying too hard to fix them.
Men, as Larry Crabb contends in his epic book "The Silence of Adam," prefer to live by code rather than courage. Relational uncertainty and mystery causes many men to freeze up, remain silent rather engage. This is why many men pour their energies out at work (clear code, clear wins, we can figure out how to make this work) while neglecting wives and kids (no clear code, uncertainty, mystery, more demanding).
So when someone shares with us problems, we want to fix it. We like to think we can figure out "the code" and offer it to someone else.
But guys (and women who share this tendency) please hear me as I learn this myself--no one likes to be fixed. We are sorely tempted to be like Job's friends and offer stupid advice.
Instead, let us listen, come alongside, and pray (we are way, way too slow to recognize the power of this important gift that we can give to one another). And let us offer words of suggestion, advice, and recommendation only sparingly. They are often not nearly as helpful as we would like to think.
If you've never read the book of Job before, it's a maddening and gripping piece of Scripture. Calamity strikes Job. His friends show up. They spend most of the book telling him the calamity must all be his fault--he did something to deserve it.
Job refuses that explanation and demands that God answer him. God shows up at the end, doesn't ever answer his question, reminds him that God is God and he is not. Job submits to the mystery of God's sovereignty and his life is restored to an even greater degree of blessing.
But the point for today is this: his friends were idiots. They insisted on trying to fix Job and counsel him when their self-perceived insight and wisdom and advice was completely wrong.
The other day I was with a good friend of mine. He was sharing some challenges in his life. I found myself talking, and talking, and talking some more in response. I was trying to fix stuff. Last year I had students who complained that I too quickly and easily tried to offer them advice rather than really listening to them. I was trying too hard to fix them.
Men, as Larry Crabb contends in his epic book "The Silence of Adam," prefer to live by code rather than courage. Relational uncertainty and mystery causes many men to freeze up, remain silent rather engage. This is why many men pour their energies out at work (clear code, clear wins, we can figure out how to make this work) while neglecting wives and kids (no clear code, uncertainty, mystery, more demanding).
So when someone shares with us problems, we want to fix it. We like to think we can figure out "the code" and offer it to someone else.
But guys (and women who share this tendency) please hear me as I learn this myself--no one likes to be fixed. We are sorely tempted to be like Job's friends and offer stupid advice.
Instead, let us listen, come alongside, and pray (we are way, way too slow to recognize the power of this important gift that we can give to one another). And let us offer words of suggestion, advice, and recommendation only sparingly. They are often not nearly as helpful as we would like to think.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Leaning into Incompetency
So most of us spend most of our lives getting good at things. This is a good thing. Except when it's not.
I work on campus. The very nature of the college academic experience is to "major" in something--that is, to develop some core competencies in a field of study. All of this is well and good, except that competency can work counter to the flourishing of the Christian spiritual life.
Competency is the ability to do something on our own...or at least to know enough of what needs to be done to bring in the proper help if help is needed.
But the core message of the gospel cuts deeply against competency. No amount of competency could undo the sin nature. No amount of competency could restore us into fellowship with our Father.
And so the gospel is an offense to our culture that has been built on American ingenuity and competency. When it comes to the most important relationship in our lives, we all alike must confess our inability to do anything about making the most deeply wrong things right. We need mercy, grace, forgiveness, and the aid of Someone else to come and rescue us. Otherwise, we are stuck with a simple, shallow competency.
Of course for all of us our competencies have limits. And so when we get stuck at the outer limits of our abilities to fix something, we often find ourselves asking God for help. Only mostly what we're asking for is for more competency to be able to fix it on our own strength so that we might be even more independent.
God, in his mercy, is good to be slow to grant those requests. All of us must occasionally (some of us more often than others) hit the wall. We must find ourselves unable to fix something in our own strength.
And when we get there and then get mad at God for not giving us more competency to fix the situation, it would be good for us to step back and pause. Perhaps the thing that we're asking for is the very thing that would be the worst thing for us to receive--in fact, it would be death for us were God to give it to us.
God did not come in Christ to make us more competent. He came to call rebellious, needy, broken people to lay down their arms in surrender and lean into God's mercy and grace. That's offensive. It's also very, very good news.
I work on campus. The very nature of the college academic experience is to "major" in something--that is, to develop some core competencies in a field of study. All of this is well and good, except that competency can work counter to the flourishing of the Christian spiritual life.
Competency is the ability to do something on our own...or at least to know enough of what needs to be done to bring in the proper help if help is needed.
But the core message of the gospel cuts deeply against competency. No amount of competency could undo the sin nature. No amount of competency could restore us into fellowship with our Father.
And so the gospel is an offense to our culture that has been built on American ingenuity and competency. When it comes to the most important relationship in our lives, we all alike must confess our inability to do anything about making the most deeply wrong things right. We need mercy, grace, forgiveness, and the aid of Someone else to come and rescue us. Otherwise, we are stuck with a simple, shallow competency.
Of course for all of us our competencies have limits. And so when we get stuck at the outer limits of our abilities to fix something, we often find ourselves asking God for help. Only mostly what we're asking for is for more competency to be able to fix it on our own strength so that we might be even more independent.
God, in his mercy, is good to be slow to grant those requests. All of us must occasionally (some of us more often than others) hit the wall. We must find ourselves unable to fix something in our own strength.
And when we get there and then get mad at God for not giving us more competency to fix the situation, it would be good for us to step back and pause. Perhaps the thing that we're asking for is the very thing that would be the worst thing for us to receive--in fact, it would be death for us were God to give it to us.
God did not come in Christ to make us more competent. He came to call rebellious, needy, broken people to lay down their arms in surrender and lean into God's mercy and grace. That's offensive. It's also very, very good news.
Sunday, November 01, 2009
Top 10 Signs You Might Be Too Old for Trick-or Treating
After last night's excursion with the kids into the land of trick-or-treating, I feel compelled this morning to offer this community service with the top ten signs that you might be too old for trick-or-treating:
10. If you have to shave your five o'clock shadow before you go trick-or-treating, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
9. If you own a fake i.d, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
8. If you remember the Clinton administration, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
7. If you remember the Reagan administration, you're DEFINITELY too old for trick-or-treating.
6. If while trick-or-treating you find yourself regularly distracted by worry about your A.P. exams, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
5. If you're driving yourself to the candy-jackpot neighborhood, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
4. If your idea of a good and/or current costume is Vanilla Ice, a Backstreet Boy, Monica Lewinsky, or no costume at all, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
3. If half-way through roller-blading your way through the jackpot neighborhood you realize you've forgotten to take off your high school class ring, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
2. If upon hearing about daylight savings time your first thought is, "Sweet! I can squeeze in an extra cigarette if I can steal it from my dad" you're probably too old for trick-or-treating.
1. If you're trying to figure out what to wear to prom, you're probably too old for trick-or-treating.
Further signs that you might be too old for trick-or-treating are welcome.
10. If you have to shave your five o'clock shadow before you go trick-or-treating, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
9. If you own a fake i.d, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
8. If you remember the Clinton administration, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
7. If you remember the Reagan administration, you're DEFINITELY too old for trick-or-treating.
6. If while trick-or-treating you find yourself regularly distracted by worry about your A.P. exams, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
5. If you're driving yourself to the candy-jackpot neighborhood, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
4. If your idea of a good and/or current costume is Vanilla Ice, a Backstreet Boy, Monica Lewinsky, or no costume at all, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
3. If half-way through roller-blading your way through the jackpot neighborhood you realize you've forgotten to take off your high school class ring, you might be too old for trick-or-treating.
2. If upon hearing about daylight savings time your first thought is, "Sweet! I can squeeze in an extra cigarette if I can steal it from my dad" you're probably too old for trick-or-treating.
1. If you're trying to figure out what to wear to prom, you're probably too old for trick-or-treating.
Further signs that you might be too old for trick-or-treating are welcome.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Our Real Problem in Marriage...and Most Everything Else
Allow me to riff off of something that my former pastor, Steve Shelby, used to say. When marriages are struggling, conventional wisdom tends to point to one issue--communication.
But here's the deal: communication is not your main problem in your marriage. Your main problem is that your both sinners. You could communicate perfectly and it still wouldn't fix your marriage. You'd still be broken, messy people with messed up motives, hard-wired with the desire to manipulate the other, full of pride, anxiety, fear, and selfishness that wrecks marriage...and all the rest of our relationships.
Ergo, apart from repentance, there is no healing in marriage.
This mis-diagnosis plays out not only in marriage. "Mis-communication" gets blamed for all sorts of things in our culture as we gave done away with any cultural concept of sin. Sometimes with results that would be hilarious if it weren't all so tragic.
Last spring, for example, on campus at UNC one student group brought in an extremely conservative speaker who was speaking against immigration. Another group (made up of some students, some townies) protested and ended up disrupting the event--calling the speaker (and the sponsoring student organization) racist. A couple of folks got arrested.
In the paper the next day, one student leader was quoted as saying, "I think that we've got a good bit of mis-communication."
Uh, no we don't. I think we're communicating loud and clear.
But without a category for sin, we're stuck--with the only correct diagnosis not available to us ("sin" has been taken off the table by our own cultural volition), we're stuck with options that are weak and, put bluntly, wrong.
Incorrect diagnosis, of course, means that we can't cure the real problem--as anyone who plays a doctor on t.v. could tell you. Without recognition of sin, we cannot repent. No repentance, no peace.
So as Christians, we must not be shy of calling sin what it is--sin. This is a good gift for our culture. And we must be equally eager to invite people into the offer on the table for healing and right relationship. That is, we are to call sin sin, and we are to speak the good news: the invitation to everyone to repent, be reconciled to God and serve and love one another--even in the context of legitimate disagreement.
True, this diagnosis (calling something "sin") has been mis-handled at times--there is such a thing as mis-communication, for example, and it does cause problems. But the abuse of something should not therefore eliminate it's availability for proper use.
But here's the deal: communication is not your main problem in your marriage. Your main problem is that your both sinners. You could communicate perfectly and it still wouldn't fix your marriage. You'd still be broken, messy people with messed up motives, hard-wired with the desire to manipulate the other, full of pride, anxiety, fear, and selfishness that wrecks marriage...and all the rest of our relationships.
Ergo, apart from repentance, there is no healing in marriage.
This mis-diagnosis plays out not only in marriage. "Mis-communication" gets blamed for all sorts of things in our culture as we gave done away with any cultural concept of sin. Sometimes with results that would be hilarious if it weren't all so tragic.
Last spring, for example, on campus at UNC one student group brought in an extremely conservative speaker who was speaking against immigration. Another group (made up of some students, some townies) protested and ended up disrupting the event--calling the speaker (and the sponsoring student organization) racist. A couple of folks got arrested.
In the paper the next day, one student leader was quoted as saying, "I think that we've got a good bit of mis-communication."
Uh, no we don't. I think we're communicating loud and clear.
But without a category for sin, we're stuck--with the only correct diagnosis not available to us ("sin" has been taken off the table by our own cultural volition), we're stuck with options that are weak and, put bluntly, wrong.
Incorrect diagnosis, of course, means that we can't cure the real problem--as anyone who plays a doctor on t.v. could tell you. Without recognition of sin, we cannot repent. No repentance, no peace.
So as Christians, we must not be shy of calling sin what it is--sin. This is a good gift for our culture. And we must be equally eager to invite people into the offer on the table for healing and right relationship. That is, we are to call sin sin, and we are to speak the good news: the invitation to everyone to repent, be reconciled to God and serve and love one another--even in the context of legitimate disagreement.
True, this diagnosis (calling something "sin") has been mis-handled at times--there is such a thing as mis-communication, for example, and it does cause problems. But the abuse of something should not therefore eliminate it's availability for proper use.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Fall on Purpose
I think the only thing more spectacular than Chapel Hill in spring is Chapel Hill in the fall.
I wonder if fall is God's way of inviting us to consider that the deaths he calls us to can be beautiful.
I wonder if fall is God's way of inviting us to consider that the deaths he calls us to can be beautiful.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Spiritual Lessons Learned by Sucking at Fantasy Football
So my fantasy football team sucks.
This in and of itself would not be interesting blog material (note to all fellow fantasy footballers out there: no one outside of your league cares to hear you grouse or cheer your fantasy team) except that I'm learning a significant spiritual lessons along the way.
For the un-initiated, fantasy football is building your own hypothetical team with actual football players. When they gain yards or score touchdowns in their games, your team gets points.
It's not just this year that my team sucks. I've been playing for over fifteen years and generally my teams year in and year out are mediocre.
I'm an above average fan in terms of general knowledge. But I've been playing in a league of really sharp guys for most of the past eight years. They're great guys, and they generally kick my butt.
I haven't always responded kindly to my mediocrity. Several years ago I realized that I was obsessing over my team all Sunday afternoon and smarting from my losses all day on Monday. I realized I was over-competitive and my team was bad--a bad combination. I quit the league mid-season and took a couple year hiatus to re-gain perspective.
This fall my team has descended into an even more radical form of mediocrity than is typical of my mid-season swoon. And I've been trying to figure out how to still enjoy it.
So I've been practicing a spiritual discipline in regards to my fantasy football team that those who are more deep in the life of the Spirit have always encouraged: detachment.
Detachment is a way of relating to the world not in an apathetic way but in a way that recognizes the things of the world for what they are: fleeting, transient. Situations, promotions, discouragements, wealth, poverty, status, stuff, power, and yes, even fantasy football glory or rancid-ness--all these things are shifting shadows, they pass.
God never changes. And so the practice of detachment focuses on the eternal God and allows that to inform and re-shape how we relate to things that so easily capture our imaginations that are, in fact, so very trivial.
In detachment we are invited to enter into and enjoy things for what they actually are, not as the world would hype them up to be, not as we would wish them to be, not as the various pressures and circumstances and situations around us would make them out to be. We handle them with love, with grace, and with freedom to let them go when the time comes.
This is so very, very, very, very not my nature. My nature is to dig in, to take whatever's in front of me and make it my whole world and try to make it great. And sometimes those instincts rob me of joy and cause me to overly-invest in things that aren't worth over-investing in.
So my fantasy football team sucks. And I'm trying to enjoy it anyway. It's not easy. This week I scored the lowest overall point total for anyone all season long. I still hate losing, and I hate losing embarrassingly badly even worse.
But if it helps me to live a little more freely, both with this game and in the rest of my life, maybe, just maybe, it's actually worth it.
This in and of itself would not be interesting blog material (note to all fellow fantasy footballers out there: no one outside of your league cares to hear you grouse or cheer your fantasy team) except that I'm learning a significant spiritual lessons along the way.
For the un-initiated, fantasy football is building your own hypothetical team with actual football players. When they gain yards or score touchdowns in their games, your team gets points.
It's not just this year that my team sucks. I've been playing for over fifteen years and generally my teams year in and year out are mediocre.
I'm an above average fan in terms of general knowledge. But I've been playing in a league of really sharp guys for most of the past eight years. They're great guys, and they generally kick my butt.
I haven't always responded kindly to my mediocrity. Several years ago I realized that I was obsessing over my team all Sunday afternoon and smarting from my losses all day on Monday. I realized I was over-competitive and my team was bad--a bad combination. I quit the league mid-season and took a couple year hiatus to re-gain perspective.
This fall my team has descended into an even more radical form of mediocrity than is typical of my mid-season swoon. And I've been trying to figure out how to still enjoy it.
So I've been practicing a spiritual discipline in regards to my fantasy football team that those who are more deep in the life of the Spirit have always encouraged: detachment.
Detachment is a way of relating to the world not in an apathetic way but in a way that recognizes the things of the world for what they are: fleeting, transient. Situations, promotions, discouragements, wealth, poverty, status, stuff, power, and yes, even fantasy football glory or rancid-ness--all these things are shifting shadows, they pass.
God never changes. And so the practice of detachment focuses on the eternal God and allows that to inform and re-shape how we relate to things that so easily capture our imaginations that are, in fact, so very trivial.
In detachment we are invited to enter into and enjoy things for what they actually are, not as the world would hype them up to be, not as we would wish them to be, not as the various pressures and circumstances and situations around us would make them out to be. We handle them with love, with grace, and with freedom to let them go when the time comes.
This is so very, very, very, very not my nature. My nature is to dig in, to take whatever's in front of me and make it my whole world and try to make it great. And sometimes those instincts rob me of joy and cause me to overly-invest in things that aren't worth over-investing in.
So my fantasy football team sucks. And I'm trying to enjoy it anyway. It's not easy. This week I scored the lowest overall point total for anyone all season long. I still hate losing, and I hate losing embarrassingly badly even worse.
But if it helps me to live a little more freely, both with this game and in the rest of my life, maybe, just maybe, it's actually worth it.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Hitting the Other Extreme
Over the past fourteen years, I've talked with all kinds of people at various extremes. Some folks on one extreme are basically the "forget you, I'm doing whatever I want to with my life" types. Their faith doesn't much come into play when it comes to what they consider their "rights."
Those are the folks who need the passage from Romans 14 that I pulled from yesterday.
But there are other people at the other end of the extreme. They have little to no self-concept and get run over all the time. They enable others to continue to live in unhealthy/sinful patterns by not confronting wrong-doing. They say yes to everyone all the time to make everyone happy...often at great cost to themselves and others around them who love them.
Those people need to hear a different word: love your neighbor as yourself presupposes some healthy degree of self-love. That means healthy boundaries.
A healthy self love is rooted in a genuine humility that understands that we are worthy of being loved because God has created us and bought us back for himself at great cost to himself. That self must be redeemed, healed, cleansed, and transformed, but it is love-able.
The description of the people at either extremes are, of course, caricatures. But my guess is that most of us can, perhaps with a little help from our friends, identify ourselves as leaning towards one end or the other.
Several weeks ago I was talking about the burn-out of my students with an older, wiser man in the ministry. He commented that burn-out is the result of people not truly realizing that they were loved by God.
I responded by telling him that the unfortunate thing about living here in the South is that people already think that they know that...even though most of us remain as ignorant as the rest of the country about this fundamental, critical reality.
My hope is that people on both ends of the extreme might live in the awesome reality of the deep, deep love of God, and have it impact in real life the real people that we interact with on a daily basis. It always results in love, it just looks a little differently, depending on what end of the extreme you happen to find yourself.
Those are the folks who need the passage from Romans 14 that I pulled from yesterday.
But there are other people at the other end of the extreme. They have little to no self-concept and get run over all the time. They enable others to continue to live in unhealthy/sinful patterns by not confronting wrong-doing. They say yes to everyone all the time to make everyone happy...often at great cost to themselves and others around them who love them.
Those people need to hear a different word: love your neighbor as yourself presupposes some healthy degree of self-love. That means healthy boundaries.
A healthy self love is rooted in a genuine humility that understands that we are worthy of being loved because God has created us and bought us back for himself at great cost to himself. That self must be redeemed, healed, cleansed, and transformed, but it is love-able.
The description of the people at either extremes are, of course, caricatures. But my guess is that most of us can, perhaps with a little help from our friends, identify ourselves as leaning towards one end or the other.
Several weeks ago I was talking about the burn-out of my students with an older, wiser man in the ministry. He commented that burn-out is the result of people not truly realizing that they were loved by God.
I responded by telling him that the unfortunate thing about living here in the South is that people already think that they know that...even though most of us remain as ignorant as the rest of the country about this fundamental, critical reality.
My hope is that people on both ends of the extreme might live in the awesome reality of the deep, deep love of God, and have it impact in real life the real people that we interact with on a daily basis. It always results in love, it just looks a little differently, depending on what end of the extreme you happen to find yourself.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Panacea Wary, Meats and Veggies, and Being un-American
I am panacea wary.
Healthcare, organizational growth, the spiritual life. There isn't just one thing that has to happen that makes everything suddenly come into alignment. Growth in any sector, industry, or the spiritual life is a confluence of lots of factors, lots of small and big decisions.
It is a somewhat common cliche in Christian circles to argue that if we just do X (pray more, focus more on Jesus, worship more fully, read more Scripture) then everything else will come "naturally." We'll be more bold in sharing our faith, for example, or love our neighbors more freely or serve more selflessly if we just do this other, more important thing first.
In reading through the book of Romans, apparently Paul was panacea wary as well.
If any one portion of Scripture makes the main thing the main thing, it has to be Romans 8: forgiveness, worship, the final redemption of all things, help in suffering--it's all there, and it's gloriously epic.
But Paul, contrary to those of us who are tempted to think in terms of panaceas, doesn't stop there. He doesn't just say, "well, that's it, and the rest of your Christian life will naturally flow from there." He spends another seven chapters teasing out the specific implications of all that he unpacks in Romans 8.
And what's striking to me this time through Romans is how much ink Paul spills on applying the work of Christ to the life of the community. Paul word here is ruthless to our American individualism and sense of entitlement and "rights."
Bottom line: we have no "rights" apart from the right to submit to Christ and therefore to our neighbor for whom Christ died.
Paul says: One of you eats meat, the other one doesn't because their conscience won't allow it. So if you're with someone who doesn't eat meat--don't eat it. Why would you do something so stupid as to eat meat if it's going to destroy the faith of someone for whom Christ gave his life?
Put in today's language--why would you consume entertainment or drink alcohol, or do anything in the company of someone for whom doing so would cause them to struggle in their faith? Are you not willing to let go of your "rights" in this particular instance in order to honor someone? Did not Christ give up his "rights" in dying for that person?
Giving up our perceived rights is pretty un-American. I don't know if in the U.S. we'll ever have a wide-spread experience of this in the church.
Perhaps, however, a movement in this direction might be the beginnings of revival: the reckless submitting to one another because we start to believe that life in Christ and the loving our neighbor as ourselves truly matters, in real time, in real life, with real decisions.
Not a panacea, just hundreds, maybe thousands, of small and big decisions to live out the reality of God's work in the world with courage and patience and love.
Healthcare, organizational growth, the spiritual life. There isn't just one thing that has to happen that makes everything suddenly come into alignment. Growth in any sector, industry, or the spiritual life is a confluence of lots of factors, lots of small and big decisions.
It is a somewhat common cliche in Christian circles to argue that if we just do X (pray more, focus more on Jesus, worship more fully, read more Scripture) then everything else will come "naturally." We'll be more bold in sharing our faith, for example, or love our neighbors more freely or serve more selflessly if we just do this other, more important thing first.
In reading through the book of Romans, apparently Paul was panacea wary as well.
If any one portion of Scripture makes the main thing the main thing, it has to be Romans 8: forgiveness, worship, the final redemption of all things, help in suffering--it's all there, and it's gloriously epic.
But Paul, contrary to those of us who are tempted to think in terms of panaceas, doesn't stop there. He doesn't just say, "well, that's it, and the rest of your Christian life will naturally flow from there." He spends another seven chapters teasing out the specific implications of all that he unpacks in Romans 8.
And what's striking to me this time through Romans is how much ink Paul spills on applying the work of Christ to the life of the community. Paul word here is ruthless to our American individualism and sense of entitlement and "rights."
Bottom line: we have no "rights" apart from the right to submit to Christ and therefore to our neighbor for whom Christ died.
Paul says: One of you eats meat, the other one doesn't because their conscience won't allow it. So if you're with someone who doesn't eat meat--don't eat it. Why would you do something so stupid as to eat meat if it's going to destroy the faith of someone for whom Christ gave his life?
Put in today's language--why would you consume entertainment or drink alcohol, or do anything in the company of someone for whom doing so would cause them to struggle in their faith? Are you not willing to let go of your "rights" in this particular instance in order to honor someone? Did not Christ give up his "rights" in dying for that person?
Giving up our perceived rights is pretty un-American. I don't know if in the U.S. we'll ever have a wide-spread experience of this in the church.
Perhaps, however, a movement in this direction might be the beginnings of revival: the reckless submitting to one another because we start to believe that life in Christ and the loving our neighbor as ourselves truly matters, in real time, in real life, with real decisions.
Not a panacea, just hundreds, maybe thousands, of small and big decisions to live out the reality of God's work in the world with courage and patience and love.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Parental Grab-Bag: Saving the Toilet Paper, Dutch Pancakes, and Bulllfrog Brilliance
It's been many months since I've grab-bagged it. Today, some grab-bag thoughts for the parents out there.
The rest of you who might be pro-creating some day can feel free to read along and take some notes.
*Many of us in parent-land dread fall. Not because it pains us to see leaves dying on trees or because we have a deep-seated fear of carved pumpkins. We dread fall because colder weather and shorter days means kids indoors for longer.
So for those of you who are feeling the beginnings of colder weather driving your kids inside, and therefore driving you insane by destroying furniture, siblings, family heirlooms, and/or toilet paper rolls, allow me to encourage you to make the exquisitely wise and wonderful purchase my wife made a couple weeks ago: the indoor exercise trampoline.
She got it on Craig's list for cheap. I've made it a game of seeing how many consecutive jumps the kids can do--Davis did 700 the other day. Holy core-strengthening exercises, Batman. And of course the goal is to get them as physically exhausted as possible in order to save the furniture/toilet paper rolls/family heirlooms/siblings.
It's certainly not the panacea for all rowdy indoor behavior, but I shudder to think about what life might be over the past couple of weeks without it.
*Fun Saturday morning treat: Oma's Dutch Pancakes (a.k.a. crepes): 1 cup of flour per person, one egg per person, add milk until almost watery.
Ladle a small amount onto an egregiously-overly-buttered skillet and spin around until a thin layer of batter is spread out across the face of the pan. Cook, flip, finish cooking, and eat immediately.
Spread on your favorite topping (we grew up with sugar and lemon juice but you could also do a favorite jam or jelly or even syup) and roll them up and eat them up--yummy! The kids always love daddy, but they especially love me the moment I reveal to them the plan to make Dutch Pancakes that morning!
*I'm making my coaching debut this fall with Zoe's under-four team, the Green Bullfrogs.
We aren't much to look at on the soccer field (last weekend the kids were literally holding hands and walking in circle singing "Ring Around the Rosie" as the other team whizzed by them and scored for the umpteenth time that quarter).
But what coaching wisdom I have to offer I am glad to pass along to others out there who might also be in the position of coaching children who are less-than-interested in the game their parents signed them up to play.
Without further ado, here is the mighty Bullfrog cheer:
Coach Alex: "Does a bullfrog say 'moo-moo?'
Bullfrogs (each with one hand in; the other is likely holding the weed they picked during practice): "NO!"
Coach Alex: "Does a bullfrog say 'woof-woof?'"
Bullfrogs (with increasing indignation): "NO!"
Coach Alex: "Does a bullfrog say 'meeowwww?'"
Bullfrogs (at a fever-pitch of gleeful agitation): "NO!!!"
Coach Alex: "What does a bullfrog say?"
Bullfrogs (with deep, visceral joy): "RIBBIT-RIBBIT!"
Coach Alex: "Go bullfrogs on three: one, two, three.."
Bullfrogs: "GO BULLFROGS!"
That one's for free folks. You can thank me later.
The rest of you who might be pro-creating some day can feel free to read along and take some notes.
*Many of us in parent-land dread fall. Not because it pains us to see leaves dying on trees or because we have a deep-seated fear of carved pumpkins. We dread fall because colder weather and shorter days means kids indoors for longer.
So for those of you who are feeling the beginnings of colder weather driving your kids inside, and therefore driving you insane by destroying furniture, siblings, family heirlooms, and/or toilet paper rolls, allow me to encourage you to make the exquisitely wise and wonderful purchase my wife made a couple weeks ago: the indoor exercise trampoline.
She got it on Craig's list for cheap. I've made it a game of seeing how many consecutive jumps the kids can do--Davis did 700 the other day. Holy core-strengthening exercises, Batman. And of course the goal is to get them as physically exhausted as possible in order to save the furniture/toilet paper rolls/family heirlooms/siblings.
It's certainly not the panacea for all rowdy indoor behavior, but I shudder to think about what life might be over the past couple of weeks without it.
*Fun Saturday morning treat: Oma's Dutch Pancakes (a.k.a. crepes): 1 cup of flour per person, one egg per person, add milk until almost watery.
Ladle a small amount onto an egregiously-overly-buttered skillet and spin around until a thin layer of batter is spread out across the face of the pan. Cook, flip, finish cooking, and eat immediately.
Spread on your favorite topping (we grew up with sugar and lemon juice but you could also do a favorite jam or jelly or even syup) and roll them up and eat them up--yummy! The kids always love daddy, but they especially love me the moment I reveal to them the plan to make Dutch Pancakes that morning!
*I'm making my coaching debut this fall with Zoe's under-four team, the Green Bullfrogs.
We aren't much to look at on the soccer field (last weekend the kids were literally holding hands and walking in circle singing "Ring Around the Rosie" as the other team whizzed by them and scored for the umpteenth time that quarter).
But what coaching wisdom I have to offer I am glad to pass along to others out there who might also be in the position of coaching children who are less-than-interested in the game their parents signed them up to play.
Without further ado, here is the mighty Bullfrog cheer:
Coach Alex: "Does a bullfrog say 'moo-moo?'
Bullfrogs (each with one hand in; the other is likely holding the weed they picked during practice): "NO!"
Coach Alex: "Does a bullfrog say 'woof-woof?'"
Bullfrogs (with increasing indignation): "NO!"
Coach Alex: "Does a bullfrog say 'meeowwww?'"
Bullfrogs (at a fever-pitch of gleeful agitation): "NO!!!"
Coach Alex: "What does a bullfrog say?"
Bullfrogs (with deep, visceral joy): "RIBBIT-RIBBIT!"
Coach Alex: "Go bullfrogs on three: one, two, three.."
Bullfrogs: "GO BULLFROGS!"
That one's for free folks. You can thank me later.
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