I read an article this year about the tectonic shift in they way we use a bedrock technology – the telephone. In our day of texting, instant messages, Facebook posts, and even good old-fashioned emails, a phone call seems unnecessarily intrusive. Imagine the nerve of picking up the phone and calling someone! A phone call requests immediate attention, but the rest of our methods of contact can be consumed and responded to at the recipient’s discretion.

The Information Age has changed the way we interact in a myriad of ways. A thread woven through all of them is a new ability we have been bequeathed. Formerly the domain of only the very rich or very powerful, its heady power has been bestowed upon the masses. It is the opportunity to broadcast.

Be it a social network post, a Twitter feed, or even a seldom-updated blog (like this one), we have been given the power of the pen. Our audiences are of all sizes – often a few, sometimes a few thousand. But no matter how many consumers we have, we have been empowered to tell that microcosm of the planet exactly what we’re doing and precisely how we feel about it.

We have established an odd new social contract where these communications are concerned: We agree to not hold each other accountable for what we say.

I distinctly remember the first time I violated this more. It was back in the olden days when MySpace and blogging on Xanga were the rage. I was a youth pastor. I read a student’s publicly available blog posts. The feelings expressed were alarming – I became truly concerned for the student’s safety. I picked up the phone, expressing my thoughts and offering support. The first response was “how did you read that?” (“Umm…it’s on the INTERNET!”). Second response: “Oh, I was just blowing off steam. Don’t worry about it.”

Over a decade later, almost all of us are broadcasting in some way. Like so many tiny radio stations, we transmit the contents of our soul. We blow off steam. We rant. We process publicly. We joke. We mock. We commiserate. We decry. We fight. We make up. And we broadcast it all.

I know this is starting to sound like the ramblings of a prematurely old fogey, pining for the good old days when things were different. I’m not (I hope). The world has changed, like it always does. And in so many ways, it’s a good thing. The cries of the oppressed around the world can no longer be silenced by brutal dictators by simply controlling the radio or television. We carry the ability to broadcast everywhere with us. we can dissent, organize, and collaborate. We can connect with a bigger world, no matter where we live.

But we still maintain the unwritten rule that internet communications are not real. I may have written the words, they may be attached to my account, but they don’t matter. It’s just Facebook. It’s just a rant. I’m just sayin’. Most of us have experienced the person who eviscerates you online but says nothing about it in person. Sure, a few people have lost jobs because of reckless tweeting or photos posted to a social network, but they’re the exception that proves the rule. Must of us update and upload to our heart’s content with impunity – we’re not concerned with the consequences because there seldom are any. We are allowed to purge, spewing out so much emotional vomit, without having to deal with the cleanup. Mature people know it does no good to try to correct such internet sputum - the best thing to do is just ignore it – don’t get sucked in the trap.

The simple truth is this: We have been given the ability to broadcast, and we often use it to say things we can’t or won’t say face to face. And we’ve decided that is normal, healthy thing to do.

Though I’ve not heard anything in the media about it, I’ve personally noticed a new trend popping up lately. I call it “the friend test.” The friend test is a passive-agressive way to say something you know many of your listeners will disagree with and not suffer the consequences. It begins with saying you’re afraid. “I know a lot of people will hate me for this, but [insert opinion, revelation, or rant].” It is typically ended with some variant of “but I know my real friends will understand.” By beginning with the disclaimer, we identify anyone who disagrees with the broadcast as judgmental. With the post-script, “real friends” are offered the ability to claim that crown by agreeing with the poster and remarking about how brave they are.

The friend test is not brave. It is not fair. And it is not real. Proverbs 27:6 admonishes us:

Faithful are the wounds of a friend,
But deceitful are the kisses of an enemy.

The friend test creates a fake community of sycophants.

Real friends question, hold accountable, and even wound. Those who care about us the most have the greatest insight into who we really are. True friendship sometimes means uncomfortable questions, disagreements, and even (gasp) direct, face to face contact. My very best friends challenge me. They don’t let careless words go by unquestioned. They make me better by holding me accountable.

Our ability to broadcast has left us with another profound misconception. Because we all now have the same megaphone, we have begun to believe that all opinions are equally valid. Whatever it is we decide to affirm, the Net gives us the tools to find a sympathetic audience. We may have to weed out the posers with a few friend tests, but eventually we can create a pseudo-world where everyone agrees with our chosen philosophy. But finding others who agree with me does not make me right – or even sane. Gravity can’t be circumvented just because two or more people think it is merely a suggestion, not a law.

Though I have sometimes been guilty of careless rants and offhand comments, I don’t accept the rules of the micro-broadcast age. I believe words have consequences, often the power of life and death. I believe Jesus was deadly serious when He said:

But I tell you that every careless word that people speak, they shall give an accounting for it in the day of judgment.

I am far from perfection, but here are a few principles I try to live by:

1. I accept that by posting on the internet, I am submitting my words for disagreement, redress, correction, or even rebuke. I welcome the scrutiny, and I have often had to apologize.
2. I assume everyone else accepts the same responsibility for their broadcasts and act accordingly (often to my detriment).
3. I agree with Jesus that “the mouth speaks out of that which fills the heart,” and the Web is no exception. Words spoken online have the same ability to reveal character as words spoken in person.
4. While conflict is not always negative – a good, constructive confrontation can be a powerful tool for effecting change and repairing relationship, public conflict online is almost ALWAYS destructive and pointless. If I truly care about someone, I must care enough to confront them in person.
5. There is a time to broadcast, and a time for radio silence. I shouldn’t read Facebook posts when I’m depressed. I shouldn’t blog drunk or angry. I should be mature enough to use these great powers responsibly.

Some of that list is slightly tongue in cheek, but the principle is sound: the words we speak, both verbal and online, are extraordinarily powerful, and we must use them wisely. We must not allow our culture’s shallow, impotent version of community to become our reality. We must craft communities of faith where we all agree to submit our words and actions to scrutiny and correction, first by Scripture, second by faithful friends. In sharp contrast to the flippant nature of our broadcast planet paradigm, we must be “quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger.”

Even on Facebook.

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No one ever asks “Who do you want to be when you grow up?” In fact, we seldom ask ourselves who we are becoming.

When I am older, will I be…kind or cold; generous or tight-fisted; considerate or self-absorbed; patient or quick-tempered? Will I be an influential mentor who lifts others to achieve their full potential or a ladder-climber seeking my own advancement? Will I be wise or foolish? Will my faith be stronger or weaker? Will I have moral and relational integrity or be marked by my indiscretions? Will I know Jesus any better than I do today?

Often we assume these things just happen. Some of them are hard-wired into our personality or burned in by our upbringing. It’s true – personality appears at birth. Our strengths and weaknesses are apparent almost before we can walk or talk. So much of who we are is part of the wonder and weight of being human. Blessing or curse, we are who we are.

But we don’t have to stay that way.

Character is different than personality. It is more than the sum total of our natural instincts and inclinations. It is shaped partly by our experiences, but more by how we choose to process and persevere through them. And we do choose. With every waking moment we are presented paths to pick from. Our decisions shape our destiny. And inherent in each choice is the seed that will grow into our future character, a tree not limited by birthright or upbringing or natural ability.

Most days, we don’t consider this. We hope we’ll end up better people. We assume we will “grow up” or “figure it out” at some point. Sadly, we often never do. What will I be like when I am 30? 40? 50? Unless you and I take direct, deliberate action to intervene, the answer is simply “more of what I am now.”

Creation itself, from the beginning of time to the end of the universe, is kept in rhythm by the cycle of sowing and reaping, seed time and harvest. Every living thing is sustained by an ecosphere that refreshes itself though birth and growth, each after its kind. Scripture leverages this truth heavily – not as a pithy metaphor, but as a metaphysical reality – what you sow you also will reap.

Who you will be later depends on the seeds you plant today. Wishing does not make it so. If you hope to be someone different in ten years but do nothing different tomorrow, your harvest will not change. Ruthlessly clawing your way to the top but believing you will later be generous and helpful to others is as pointless as planting watermelons, then hoping and praying for wheat.

Simply put, we are becoming who we are.

Change can be harder than you think. It can take a lifetime. If you are naturally critical, kind and generous words can be as hard to conjure as water from a rock. If you tend toward selfishness, altruism can seem out of reach. For the impatient, it can be hard to fathom being described as long-suffering.

This is, of course, because lasting change requires time, energy, and endurance. Reality TV transformations are the only ones that take place overnight (and they aren’t reality). Through a thousand fits and starts and long obedience in the same direction we can become someone new, but only if we start today.

Life has a way of speeding by. Just yesterday, I was in my twenties, with all the time in the world to come into my own. Today in my mid-thirties, staring down the gun barrel of forty, I am smack dab in the middle of the years that typically define a life.

Over four years ago, I unwittingly started down a path that would fundamentally transform the course of my life. It began with a general unrest –  a thought tickling at the corners of my consciousness: “who am I becoming?” Untold time, prayer, study, and personal introspection led to one inescapable conclusion: whoever I am becoming, I’m not sure I like him very much.

As the saying goes, “Wherever you go, there you are.” Meaning that no matter the change of scenery and venue, your constant companion is you, and you two can’t have separate rooms. I decided I needed a different roommate.

I realized I was settling for less, waiting for someone to recognize who I wanted to be and make it happen. Worst of all, I wasn’t even considering who God wanted me to become. I was allowing the street-level realities of life – the need to make a living and pay bills, the established structure of my chosen profession, the opinions of others – to mold who I was becoming. And it suddenly became clear – if I don’t do something now, I will wake up too old, too set in my ways, too disillusioned and bitter, wondering where the years went.

I ended up completely reversing my entire life. My secondary hobby became my primary day-job. My day-job became my true calling and reason for being. I drifted away from many with whom I was extremely close and became fast friends with others I barely knew or had never met. And all completely as a by-product – I never consciously set out to do any of that, but it all happened as a natural consequence of my choice to change.

I’ve often said that we are like computers – we all have factory default settings. No matter who we think we are or would like to be, apply enough pressure, stress, and fatigue, and we snap right back to our engrained patterns. Real transformation, then, is more than just momentary change or being able to verbalize the latest trendy words and ideas. It requires resetting our defaults, and in my experience that is painful, slow, and lonely work. It happens out in the wasteland, where John the Baptist types go to wear fur and eat grasshoppers and be tempted and tested and forged into something new. I find myself out there now – somewhere past the Jordan, praying, studying, reading, testing, and becoming….I am not sure quite what yet, but I like him better already. And I have learned the one thing all us desert-dwellers come to know – it was the Spirit that led us out here, and when we are ready, He will lead us back.

Who are we becoming? An amplified version of who we are now. If that is a disappointing thought, maybe it’s time to head out to dry places and start hacking away at those default settings. I’ll save you a rock.

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I’m a bit of a late bloomer in the realm of parenting, so this is my first set of urchins to awaken to the ever-increasing wonderama that is Christmas in America. The oldest (four year old twins) are now fully engaged with the “I am getting presents” thing. This year they realized for the first time that the cookies they were decorating were good eatin’, and the desire to consume copious amounts of sugar quickly overtook the urge to open gifts, to the point that cookies were the only topic of dinnertime conversation for three days leading up to the blessed event. Our goal of convincing them that Christmas is all about giving to others is lagging behind a bit, but we’re making progress, despite the inherent narcissism that marks the toddler to preschool years. They now at least acknowledge that the baby Jesus is somehow connected to the chaos, and will tolerate other people getting presents without protest.

And then there’s Santa. I have to confess here that I have always had a dualistic relationship with the hoary elf. On the one hand, I never recall thinking Santa was real. On the flip side, I distinctly remember my Dad, with a wry wink, advising us to listen for reindeer on the roof of our mobile home on Christmas Eve. When it came time to educate our spawn regarding the ubiquitous December icon, we took a somewhat similar approach, albeit attempting to infuse a sense of theological accuracy. We teach that Santa is a fun story – a parable of sorts that teaches us about giving to others and doing the right things for the right reasons (by illuminating all the wrong ones, like “be good to get stuff”). With this approach, we get to pretend and play the Santa game with no jeopardy attached. I think the twins get it. On Christmas Eve I told them they had to go to sleep or Santa wouldn’t come. The red-head said “Oh – you won’t come with the presents if we’re awake?” Perfect.

In the mountain of ads crammed into my snail mail box each and every day there recently was a newsletter from…I can’t recall whom. But in the “cute human interest stories that make you think I’m a real person you can relate to so you can trust me and buy my products or services” section was a paragraph with this headline: “At Christmas, teach your kids to believe in magic”, followed by a series of exercises you could undertake to trick the nubbins into believing Santa had indeed stopped by (make fake reindeer prints in the front yard, leave a black sack next to your chimney, eat the cookies, etc.).

It’s a common sentiment to be sure. I have, in fact, been accused of killing the joy, innocence, and sense of wonder that are the hallmarks of childhood by not fully embracing the Santa myth. Some have even tried to tie a thread between St Nick. belief and belief in general. “I want my children to believe.”

At the risk of sounding like a wet blanket wielding party pooper, I have to say that pure belief is just not enough. I propose this amended desire: “I want my children to believe the truth.”

Belief without truth lacks a foundational context, without which it is naiveté at best, gullibility at worst. Truth itself becomes the bitter pill we find tucked away in the center of the sweet confection of fairy tales presented as reality – choked down the day we learn we’ve been sold a bill of goods.

Make no mistake – I’m a huge fan of whimsy, play, make-believe and even fantasy. I’m a father of four girls. It’s in the job description. I don’t trust a kid who doesn’t have their head in the clouds at least a little. We were created with the ability to imagine infinite worlds. We were endowed by our Creator with an innate knowledge that there is more to us than hands and feet, fingers and toes, hearts and brains. We are spiritual, and connecting with the spiritual world takes a leap of faith beyond what science can demonstrate or repeat.

But at what point do our flights of fancy and faith become the “vain imaginations” Scripture warns against? I think it begins when we “exchange the truth…for a lie.” To complete that swap, we have to treat the fantasy with the same regard and station as the truth itself. We give it credence and value and weight. And it starts with our earliest beliefs.

Over the years in conversations about the journey of faith, I have often heard a variation on this theme:

“I stopped believing in God when I grew up and stopped believing in fairy tales.”

The death of innocence is a weighty thing. The day we realize there is no Santa Claus – that he is only a concept, a story, a morality tale, a bill of goods – is the day we begin to question a lot of things. How much of what I believe – and have been taught to believe – is on the same level: a good story that teaches us values but is not to be taken seriously. Like the Bible.

And that brings us to magic. Confession time: I caught a few minutes of a J.K Rowling interview on the Oprah how recently (in my defense, I ha no intention of doing so – it was on, and I couldn’t look away. Okay, lame defense). I should also point out that I have no desire to have a conversation about Harry Potter and its place in the literary canon. I’ve only seen one of the movies (totally confusing) and read none of the books. But J.K. was defending the use of magic in the Harry Potter books, and in so doing paraphrased a quote I have heard somewhere before but can’t place (or find on Wikipedia):

“‘In magic, man has to rely on himself’…so in religion, of course, you’re looking for outside support… but that’s the perennial appeal of magic—the idea that we ourselves have power and we can shape our world.”

I couldn’t agree more. Sort of.

Therein lies the fundamental conflict between sorcery and spirituality; between magic and miracles. To believe in and eternal Creator who revealed himself to us through prophets, Scriptures, and that baby born at Christmas, we must first accept there is a power and authority greater than ourselves, and we have to deal with Him on a personal level. Magic only requires that we believe in an impersonal force that aids us in achieving our self-determined ends. If we trust in magic, we can command the universe to bow to our whim (see “The Secret”). To depend on miracles requires humility, patience, and often the grace to suffer through unanswered requests.

Allow me to set up a straw man by guessing at the objections these thoughts might provoke: “Golly, Jon, you’re taking this stuff a bit too seriously, aren’t you? It’s just kid’s stuff. Let ‘em believe in fairies and Santa and the Easter Bunny as long as possible, then let them down gently. That’s what growing up is all about.” I have a few concerns with that theory.

First, magic is not make-believe. As a person of faith I believe in sorcery, magic, divination, and witchcraft. I just don’t believe they are good or amoral.

The power exerted by magicians (the real kind, not the Vegas illusionist kind) does not come from a benign impersonal force somewhere in the cosmos. There is no such thing as a good witch. There are plenty of very deceived, very naïve practitioners of the dark arts, but all spiritual power has a source. The source of spiritual power used in magic is not the Creator. And there is only one other option. In the light of this truth, teaching kids a non-specific or neutral view of magic is playing with fire. Here I should note that unless you accept the premise that there is a God and  a Devil, you will disagree with this and everything else I say.

Scripture is not ambiguous about magic. It has no concept of good and bad sorcerers. All attempts to assert spiritual power outside relationship with Jesus is called witchcraft, and strictly forbidden for God’s people. Satanists will tell you these things are written to control people and keep them from discovering their true potential; to keep them under the thumb of religious authorities. But Scripture teaches these laws are for our protection – to keep us from being owned and corrupted by the enemy of our souls, who from the very beginning has tried to be God’s peer and convince others to partake in that folly (“you can be like God” – the world’s first and most powerful lie).

If magic is real, it means that we have to very carefully decide what stories and fairy tales and fantasies we expose young minds to. I am abused of the notion that my primary job as a father is to teach my children who God is and lead them to experience His love, grace, forgiveness, and family.

Which leads to my second concern: I don’t want Jesus to be just another fairy tale; another story about magic and mysticism that turns out to be poppycock in the light of scientific rationalism.

When they “grow up” and stop believing that animals can talk, toys play by themselves when no one is looking, and dragons roam the countryside, it is vital that the stories of David, Samson, Jesus, Peter, Paul, and the rest not be so easily discarded. They have to be given a greater weight. They have to be taught as truth, not fiction.

Let me tell you where I come down on all this: It’s all about context. What is true? What is just a story? What is a fun game? What is a dangerous dalliance? For our girls, we have risked harming the childhood sense of wonder by not allowing stories to go unchallenged or uncategorized. Rather than attempting to shield them from all non-Biblical sources of information, we carefully evaluate and provide critical analysis. A movie does not get played for the first time without commentary. I don’t teach them magic isn’t real, I teach them that magic is different than faith. I teach them that their bedtime Bible stories are real, but many other stories are pretend. We don’t write letters to Santa asking for toys, but we do pray each night for protection, blessing, healing and hope.

We read fairy tales. We watch Disney movies. We play pretend with princesses and dragons and knights and ladies. We encourage imagination. But through all of this we teach, admonish, remind, and exhort. And we elevate Scripture and prayer outside the context of entertainment or fancy. They are treated as wholly other and superior.

It’s a bit of a problem at Christmas time. I am not popular with the parents of children to whom my fiery red-headed daughter has proclaimed “Santa is just pretend.” I am sure they think I am a fun-free fundamentalist. We’re working on her impulse control. “Dear, you don’t need to tell everyone everything that you know.”

But in the end, it’ worth the risk. I want my kids to have fun with stories and make-believe (and trust me, they do) but I maintain that their ability to believe in God is not predicated on their ability to believe in fairies. The two are not connected. One is real. One isn’t. Different.

So we will continue to have fun with the Santa myth, acknowledge the existence of magic (with added context) and trust that if we do our job, God is faithful to help them sort fact from fiction, faith from fantasy.

That’s my plan. What’s yours?

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We live in a country sharply divided along cultural, political, racial, socioeconomic, and religious lines. I’ve only been around 35 years, but it seems like we are more polarized than ever. That’s not the worst thing that can happen – a homogeneous, single-minded people can sometimes be more dangerous than warring factions (see the Tower of Babel, Nazi Germany…the list is endless). But this kind of climate can be exhausting sometimes. You never know what small thing – a movie you watched, a word you say, an opinion you have – might permanently alienate you from someone else.

Blanketing our nation – from our political discourse to our church services – is the need to categorize and demonize – to create and affix labels that neatly calculate the sum total of each person. We apply these judgments to keep our world and the people in it properly segmented. We agree with these people. We disagree with those people. These people are right. These people are wrong. These theologians interpret the Bible correctly. Those are heretics.

There is an odd little two-verse story in Mark 9 I have been thinking of a lot lately. Here is the setup:

“Teacher,” said John, “we saw a man driving out demons in your name and we told him to stop, because he was not one of us.”

“He was not one of us.” So it begins. John lays this morsel at his teacher’s feet like a cat with a mouse – “look what I did – I stopped the intruder! I protected the sanctity of our group!” To be fair, I can see what John was trying to do. Keep out the riff-raff. Not just anyone should be trusted with the Master’s message. The Twelve, after all, were direct disciples of Jesus, and even they had trouble figuring out the whole exorcism thing (this same chapter includes one of their failed attempts). Surely someone who was not part of the group had no business trying their hand at it.

This is perhaps the most common source of divisions in the modern day Christian church, especially in America. Every group claims to have a much better, far clearer revelation. Or a better practice of Christianity. To be closer to the source. Some congregations see superiority in their cultural relevance, others in their asceticism and separation from “the world.” Pastors preemptively separate the sheep from the goats, calling out the flaws of other denominations and ministers. “We are more correct because we read the (insert English translation) version of the Bible”. “We are closer to Jesus because we don’t drink beer and listen to rock and roll.” “We are closer to Jesus because we do.”

It is also the source of many of our divisions as a culture. We are unable to see anything but black and white. Either someone is completely 100% “right” or they are completely 100% wrong. It’s all or nothing. We are looking for the perfect politician, the sinless pastor, the faultless spouse, the flawless athlete. All the good deeds in the world can’t erase the stain of the things we don’t agree with. We want doctrinal, political, and intellectual purity and strict orthodoxy.

Jesus has a surprising response to John’s boast:

“Do not stop him,” Jesus said. “No one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us. I tell you the truth, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to Christ will certainly not lose his reward.

I have to be honest and say I’m not sure I have a theological box for that answer. After reading that, I don’t know how to draw the line on who is and who isn’t qualified to perform exorcisms. And I wonder if John got what Jesus was peeved at.

John expected Jesus to be outraged that anyone who was “not one of us” would dare cast out demons in His name. Jesus seems to be happy that at least SOMEONE was casting out demons. Because setting people free is what Jesus cared about. John fixated on the messenger. Jesus was concerned about the MESSAGE.

This is a relatively recent revelation for me. I have always thought the intent of the messenger was all that mattered. I still think it is very important. The spirit and motives out of which we speak and teach can be the difference between truth and falsehood. Certainly this person was not part of group. How could he be expected to follow their orthodoxy? He is not qualified to represent Jesus. Jesus says “leave it alone.” And that makes me think I have a lot to repent of.

I wonder if it is possible to look past our labels and celebrate truth when we hear it; rejoice in freedom when we see it; be moved by the Spirit when we feel Him? Can I point out and elevate the spiritual enlightenment a pagan has stumbled on, like Paul did on Mars Hill when he quoted “some of your own poets?” Can I look over at that mega-church across town or that tiny church of a different denomination across the street – the ones that do everything the opposite of how I think it should be – and agree with Paul’s conclusion:

But what does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice.

Jesus makes it clear in His parables that wheat and tares, sheep and goats, seeds and weeds, will have to coexist until He comes to sort them out. Can I be content to do the very best I know how and let Him be the judge and harvester?

I am not arguing for a lack of standards or accountability. I am not saying that we should not speak against heresy and contend for proper Biblical interpretation. Anyone who knows me personally knows that I prize knowledge, study, and discipleship. I’m also not saying that just anyone should try out exorcism ministry. The seven sons of Sceva learned that not all demons recognize your authority just because you use Jesus’ name as a magic word. I believe in studying, learning, and doing our very best to get it as right as we can.

But if someone who is “not one of us” speaks the truth or acts in a way that brings glory to God, I think it’s okay to recognize it. And recognizing it does not mean we have to give credence to everything that person says or does. To make the point, I give you an example that I know I will regret bringing up. Since political debate seems to split us the most these days, this should stir up the pot. A name whose very mention will polarize and divide: Glenn Beck.

Unless you don’t have the internet or TV, you know Glenn Beck held a rally in Washington DC that drew hundreds of thousands of people to the national mall. What was odd was that It was billed as a spiritual / religious event. For the sake of labels, Beck is a Mormon. He is also a hard core right wing Conservative or Libertarian or something of the sort. Many feel these two facts alone disqualify him from speaking on the subject of faith. His credibility is further stained by his occupation as a talk radio / tv political pundit who has made a number of very inflammatory statements (“Barack Obama is a racist”, etc.), and the cherry on top is the widely held belief by many inside and outside the church that religious values have no place in the public discourse.

I have no intent to defend Glenn Beck. I also have no intent to start a political debate. But if we are to take the lesson Jesus was teaching John and Paul was teaching the Philippians to heart, we should evaluate the message as well as the messenger. And Beck’s message was “Turn back to God. Pray on your knees. Leave your door open so your children can see you praying on your knees. Tithe.” He asked everyone to take a forty day challenge to “practice faith, hope and charity” in specific ways, including prayer and a commitment to non-violence. I have no hero worship of Beck, but I can’t find any fault with his challenge, and I am very happy  that such a message was heard by so many people in such a public forum. What matters is that people were pointed to God, even if he is “not one of us.”

Don’t misunderstand – I wish it could have been Billy Graham leading that rally. No one hates Billy Graham! I wish I could have been the keynote speaker that day, calling hundreds of thousands in the seat of global power to repentance and prayer. But I think the crowd would have been a bit smaller if I had called the meeting. And no matter the messenger, the message — at least the 40 day challenge portion of it, the only part I have heard or read — was truth. Sometimes God uses the strangest people to deliver truth – Balaam got his word from on high through his as…er…donkey.

Of course, some Christians will have no issue at all with Glenn Beck since they equate nationalistic fervor with Christianity. For you, may I put the shoe on the other foot? Have you ever heard Barack Obama speak truth? Think carefully…

Though I’m pretty sure most folk will stop reading after the words “Beck” or “Obama”, I offer this in conclusion. I am not advocating a loose orthodoxy. The same Paul who quoted pagan poets also taught Timothy to study hard so that he could properly interpret and apply God’s word. This is not about listening to every voice. It IS about knowing the truth well enough to recognize it in the wild and call it out as such. Think about the immense opportunities for transformational conversations about spiritual matters we can take advantage of if we can point out truth revealed in relevant ways. What if a single point of agreement could be the foundation of a dialog that leads a co-worker or neighbor to faith in Jesus? Why is it, do you suppose, that Jesus told stories about water and farmers and seed and thorns and working class, earthy things?

And what if it started with something as simple as pointing out and agreeing with the truth you heard spoken by that pastor you don’t agree with, talk show host you can’t stand, scuzzy politician, or beast of burden? Can you only see truth spoken by “one of us?” Or can you “play it as it lies?”

Just one last example. Imagine this: You are at your local Christian bookseller / table of the moneychangers. You notice a collection of prayers and worship songs has been released by a major publishing house. As you thumb through its pages, you realize you recognize the author’s name. Yes, you remember hearing about him on the news. He was once considered the greatest worship leader / musician of his generation. He became so popular he was recognized as an international church leader. But then the scandal – he had an affair with another man’s wife. She got pregnant. To cover it up, he conspired to have her husband killed. Everyone heard about it. It was all over the media.

Surely no one could ever listen to his music or read his writings again. Why would anyone publish anything written by such a scuzzball?

That, of course, is the basic outline of the story of King David, who wrote most of the Psalms. Which are in the Bible. Some of them he wrote before the Bathsheba incident. Some after. All are full of beauty and truth. Something to think about.

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http://www.redwoodhills.com/blog/65-jon-arnold/116-q10-easy-steps-to-a-raising-perfect-kidsq-and-other-urban-legends

I have another post for viraljesus almost fully cooked, but thought I would leave it another week while this one percolates…I will also be speaking this Sunday at Redwood Hills – come on by if you’re in the area…

Jon

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Though I work a day job to support the ever-increasing family, I still am honored to preach, teach, and otherwise participate in a local community of faith. I still consider making disciples my primary life’s work and purpose. And I’ve been thinking a lot lately about those who have left that work, especially through their own destructive choices – and how not to become one of them.

I read a book awhile back called “Why Great Men Fall.” It spends a lot of time working out the process that leads great men and women (okay mostly it talks about men) to a place of moral, ethical compromise, ending with public scandal and humiliation (think Kobe Bryant, Jimmy Swaggart, Tiger Woods, Ted Haggard). I think everyone with any sort of leadership aspirations or a current leadership position – especially in church land – ought to take a run through. The first chapter left an indelible imprint on me, and so I want to share the basic thoughts with you, dear four readers:

Great moral and ethical failure often begins with a sense of entitlement; the feeling that “I deserve this.”

To quote Agent Smith, “You believe you are special, that the normal rules don’t apply to you.” A light bulb went off when I read this. I have run into this attitude with alarming frequency – the idea that because of my position, hard work, or abilities, I deserve some consideration. To quote the book:

I’m the boss; where would they be without me?

I’ve worked hard for this company; they need to take good care of me. I’ll do whatever I feel like doing.

I’m the anointed one, the pastor, apostle, prophet, bishop, and I can do this because of who I am.

The church version is to call it “blessing” or “grace.” The interesting thing about “grace” and “blessing” is that, in the Biblical sense of those words, grace and blessing aren’t things you demand because you deserve them, but gifts God gives despite our unworthiness.

No leader who fails begins their slide with adultery or embezzlement. They begin with entitlement. I deserve benefits, or pay, or extra time off. I deserve gifts or words of praise. I deserve (and demand)  loyalty to me and my opinions and ideas. I deserve sexual gratification whenever I want it. Once we begin to believe these things are owed to us, it is a short walk to the act of compromising our principles to get them.

It’s astounding to me how much some church leaders think they are owed because they preach the Good News of the homeless carpenter from backwater Galilee. Some demand a large salary or “honorarium” for their ministry. Some demand time to pursue their past times and call this part of their “ministry.” Tragically, still others avoid accountability, refusing to allow anyone to question their lifestyle, spending habits, or relationships with members of the opposite sex. I could give numerous examples I have observed personally, but my name is on this blog, and the Internet is forever . Truly – my point is not to call anyone out (except maybe me), but to post a warning sign: this can happen to me(and you).

I think God gives us examples of entitlement in Scripture (like David and Bathsheba) as well as in our personal experience as a warning to each of us – the beginning of many horrible decisions that will ruin your life and the lives of those you serve, is an attitude of entitlement. Every example I have personally observed began with statements like these: “I’ve dedicated every waking minute to this ministry.” “Why shouldn’t I be blessed for the work I do.” “I’ve earned the right to be trusted. People shouldn’t micro-manage everything I do.” And this heart-stopper: “Don’t judge me”.

There is a lot at stake. If Jon the web developer and father fails morally, he will hurt his family and friends, possibly even his employer or the company he owns, and himself. If Jon the pastor or church leader fails morally or ethically, he will not only devastate that list, but also damage the meaning of the word “Christian” for everyone he ministers to, everyone they know, and (if he’s on TV or working at a megachurch) an untold multitude. It all begins with a sense of entitlement, and it can happen to any of us.

This Easter, as we consider the cross, let us also consider these words of Paul to the Philippians (from the Message):

Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.

Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, so that all created beings in heaven and on earth—even those long ago dead and buried—will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, and call out in praise that he is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father.

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I say “next to impossible”, because, yes, we are now officially expecting child number 4 (next June)!

It’s fairly cliche, really. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve heard this story: “Our friends tried for years, then they all of a sudden got pregnant.” Whenever I mentioned to friends that we were all done having kids after three, they often poked me back with “Hey wouldn’t it be funny if you all of a sudden got pregnant?”

And it IS funny. Abraham and Sarah both laughed when God promised them a son “by this time next year.” I think I get the joke. It’s funny when you think about it – now, after all this time. After all our efforts and processes and procedures and waiting and hoping and praying and crying and believing and asking and even receiving, now.

It’s a funny thing for us to have what is by all measures a “normal” pregnancy – to not be at the doctor 2-3 times a week, fretting over every detail and number and level. To experience the relative ease of the “normal” process.

It’s funny to see the reaction of doctors, who have the empirical data on our condition. Most people know their eggo is preggo when they get two lines on the EPT. Our docs wanted to test for a whole host of other conditions first – because the LAST thing they were thinking was “baby on board.” Once it was confirmed, our baby docs wanted to send over some ultrasound pics to our fertility docs – sort of an interdepartmental “in your face.” Funny.

Of course, the most wonderful thing of all is seeing the hand of God in this miraculous moment. We will have another child because the One who holds the whole universe together decided we needed one more. And He decided to do it in just His way, in His time, and He is hilarious.

When I found out, I laughed too. Not with cynicism or doubt, but because it’s a moment that’s ironic, and perfect, and full of pure joy. And that’s been a long time coming.

Now a prayer for all those still waiting – waiting for children, or healing, or a thousand other things. May you gain strength by trusting in Jesus. May you know beyond your doubts that you are not alone, not forgotten, not cursed. May He give you the desire of your heart. In His way. In His time. And when He does, I hope you laugh!

Now let’s go with a boy this time. Four women in the house is nice, but five – not funny.    

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Continuing a thread about what I think we oughta be thinking about (See this post for the intro to this section). This is a direct follow-up to the last post (aren’t they all?). I seem to have painted myself into a bit of a corner on this one. The first item in this list is justice, a huge concept to be sure, and one I have been actively working to understand in the last year. You should know I have written and re-written this post many times, and I’m not sure I even like this final result. That’s why we call it “Raw Thoughts ”.

I could cheat and go on to kindness – a lot easier to dissect – but justice comes first in the list, so I have to deal with it. Two months of no posting is too much time, so I am going to try to take this in small chunks. Just for fun, I’d like to propose a bunch of questions I’m not sure I know the answer to, then propose a bunch of answers I’m not sure I agree with. Sound like a good time? Here…we…go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have been stuck on the question of justice in a global sense. As I become more aware of the social justice movement, both inside and outside of church-folk circles, it has become apparent that “justice” is far more than a buzzword – it is a rallying cry. To be sure there is a lot of evil and therefore a lot of injustice in the world. Think sweat shops, political and religious persecution, caste systems, racism, child and sex trafficking, abortion, ethnic cleansing, and on and on. And it is clear from Scripture that God cares very deeply about justice – I don’t think I need to proof-text that one. We are clearly called to pursue justice and come to the aid of the helpless, powerless, and marginalized.

The thing I am having a hard time figuring out is the line between justice, fairness, and equal results.

Fairness is a bit arbitrary – we all have thoughts as to what is fair and what is not (ask any three year old). Justice is clearly a matter of right and wrong. But is it possible that some people confuse fairness with justice? One diagnostic question for me is “What is the end game?” If we had out way, could snap our fingers and make justice a reality, what would that look like? Some things that might be nice:

• Everyone would have the same amount of wealth (or poverty).
• The Star Trek Utopian Model – no money needed.
• Everyone would have the same opportunities.
• No one would suffer.
• All nations would have equal standing, wealth, and power. There would really be no need for separate nations, since all would be the same.
• There would be no difference between genders, races, colors, etc.
• No masters or slaves (also no labor or management).

I think the world Jesus and His followers tell us to look forward to contains these features and more than we can imagine. But the world God has left us in is very different. And that’s where I am grinding gears trying to get traction on this thing. Here are some questions:

• Does God expect us to act as though that world has already come, or are there different realities in the presence of an evil, fallen, sinful planet?
• Why does God give gifts, abilities, and grace in different amounts? Some have more talent. I am a classically trained vocalist, but I’ never make it to Hollywood Week on American Idol – the limits of my natural ability would stand in the way (plus I’m too old now, and not nearly cute enough . Why are some blessed with greater ability or more money or better opportunities?
• If I achieve a level of success in position, wealth, or authority, have I by definition marginalized someone else (since I now have more than them)?
• If we are to pursue justice, can that pursuit always be perpetrated in the absence of physical force? Is it not sometimes necessary for the strong to protect the weak forcefully?
• Is the existence of suffering inherently unjust? How can anyone who is being violently marginalized and exploited believe in a just God?
• What is God’s definition of equality (thanks to Rex for adding that one to my overfull head).

There. That should be enough to make my head explode (and maybe yours). I don’t propose that I will satisfactorally answer all these questions, but I am going to publicly process some of them. You are welcome to comment as well. I want to listen…

Next post – the things I am mostly almost pretty sure are true about justice. Maybe.

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In the Church world, we obsess about sin. Sin is the subject of our programs, policies, and procedures. Identifying and confronting the sin in ourselves and others is our chief industry and most common consideration. We spend a lot of time talking about who is wrong in their beliefs and practices and making sure ours are not also wrong or sinful. We can study, dissect, and disseminate the minutia of sin. We’ve got that kind of time on our hands.

It’s almost like we think Jesus died to keep us in the sin business.

I don’t mean “the business of sinning.” I mean the study of sin. How to avoid all sin. How to show others they are sinful. I think I take issue with that obsession. If I understand what Jesus said about the Holy Spirit, I think it was primarily His job to convict the world of sin and righteousness. I am not saying we should never say “that is wrong.” For sure Jesus teaches us to correct one another (provided we have first removed the plank in our own eye) But if that is all we spend our time on, we may just have missed the point of the cross.

There’s no good acronym for “justice, mercy, humility.” JKH wouldn’t look good on a t-shirt. But it’s what God wants. He lays it out in Micah 6:

What God Requires of Man

    ⁶With what shall I come to the LORD
         And bow myself before the God on high?
         Shall I come to Him with burnt offerings,
         With yearling calves?
    ⁷Does the LORD take delight in thousands of rams,
         In ten thousand rivers of oil?
         Shall I present my firstborn for my rebellious acts,
         The fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?
    ⁸He has told you, O man, what is good;
         And what does the LORD require of you
         But to do justice, to love kindness,
         And to walk humbly with your God? 

Put it this way – Jesus died for our sins so we could get back to the real reason we were created.

Do justice, love kindness,
         And walk humbly with your God

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It’s that time again to look to Washington for salvation – from budget crises and overseas terrorists. I wrote before a post called The Politics of Faith about our sometimes obsession as people of faith with political heroes. I won’t rehash it all, but I do want to approach this from another angle…

The hip thing these days is to mock and ridicule the “other side” in politics. This creates an environment where it is tempting to get into wars of words and witticisms, both on TV and around the water cooler. The question, then, becomes “what should people of faith do in such an environment?” Is it our responsibility to determine which candidates are best for our country from a moral and even a spiritual perspective and attempt to thoughtfully defend those candidates around the office and the lunch table? Shouldn’t we be the people who advocate forcefully for candidates that hold to Judeo-Christian principles? Shouldn’t we try to convince people who they should vote for?

It’s a dilemma to be sure. On the one hand, we would like to see things go “our way” (whatever you have determined that to be). But many of us also live in environments that are hostile to our worldview, and choosing our political candidate based on that prism opens us up to heated attack and even ridicule. In a place like Seattle, I am even seeing a trend amongst Christian-types – a concerted effort to rationalize the dispensing of certain moral criteria in order to support candidates that will gain them a little more credit with co-workers and friends.

Who would Jesus vote for?

That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Some of us say he would vote Democrat because of social justice, and anyone who elevates other moral issues above helping the poor is not a real Christian. Some of us say he would vote Republican because of abortion and gay marriage and anyone elevates helping the poor above these issues is not a real Christian. Who would Jesus really vote for?

I think He would vote for you. I’m not saying I don’t hold political views. I do. Strong ones. And I share them vociferously around the house. I am ridiculously well-informed, consuming much media from both sides. I have a view of how the American government should best be managed. But it’s not on my name tag or my backpack or my mini-van’s bumper (I know, a minivan – what a sellout!). That’s because this is not the thing that defines my person-hood. Because it’s all gonna burn. American democracy is the greatest form of government and the greatest nation ever to exist on planet earth, and it is still only a dim shadow of the world that is to come, not worthy even of comparison.

Jesus proved consistently throughout His ministry that he elevated people above politics. He sluffed off political questions, teaching instead that the residents of His kingdom should make every effort to live at peace in whatever regime they found themselves and concentrate instead on advocacy for the truth of His death and resurrection. This is our core issue – Jesus lived a sinless live, died once for the redemption of all who receive Him, was crucified, dead, and buried, rose on the third day, and ascending to the right hand of God. This simple message is enough to gain us scorn and ridicule. leaving aside our politics.

We must not look to Capitol Hill for a savior. We must not look to supporting political views to gain us credibility or likability with friends and co-workers (translation – supporting the latest new hip candidate will not make the story of Jesus more palatable to your friends, any more than your super-hip tattoo or choice to smoke a cigar. There’s nothing wrong with any of that, unless you’re doing it just to look good to people outside of faith. Then it’s vanity at best, hypocrisy at the worst. But I digress). We must look instead to defend and propagate the incredible story of the love of God through Jesus.

Change we can believe in…

…to shamelessly borrow a phrase . General leadership principle: leadership is influence, and good leadership makes deposits into our bank of credibility and influence. Every time we put some one’s person hood before their position, listen to their opinions, spend time caring about what they care about, demonstrate integrity or sacrificial leadership, do what we say, live consistently, or a thousand other goodly things, we build our influence account. It’s like loose change in a piggy bank that eventually accumulates into a new video game (minus the Coin-Star fee). It takes time, but eventually we build up the kind of influence that can be used to persuade someone to make a change.

The real question is, what will you spend your change on? If you have built enough influence to REALLY influence someone, what should you invest that change account into? Most of us don’t think this strategically. We attempt to exert influence all the time, or at unimportant moments. The condition of the soul is far more important than what people invest their money in, who they vote for, or what they do in their free time. This is why Paul, explaining his method of ministry in Corinth, said:

1When I came to you, brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God.^[a] 2For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. 3I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling. 4My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, 5so that your faith might not rest on men’s wisdom, but on God’s power.

I Corinthians 2

I want to be like Paul. I want it to be clear to everyone who knows me that the truth of Jesus and Him crucified is at the core of my being. When we talk politics, I have something to say, but no axe to grind. When we talk sports, I have thoughts, but no hill to die on. When we talk work, I am diligent and responsible, but my heart is not buried at the office. When we talk faith, I am fully invested, ready with an answer, and willing to spend whatever good will I have to impress upon the listener the centrality of faith in Jesus to our very existence.

Spend your change wisely. It would truly tank to convince someone of your political argument (or convince them you believe the same way politically) and not have any influence left when the talk turns to matters with eternal weight. Save wisely, spend wisely.

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