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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Your mind is the scene of the crime.

Woven into the writings of the Scriptures we find the concept that the mind is a battlefield. The epic wars between good and evil, better and best, the flesh and the spirit – all rage in our inner thoughts. The fight begins in our center of consciousness, but its outcome has the power to determine our destiny and expresses itself in our words and actions. Jesus addressed the legalism of His generation this way:

²⁰He went on: “What comes out of a man is what makes him ‘unclean.’ ²¹For from within, out of men’s hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, ²²greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. ²³All these evils come from inside and make a man ‘unclean.’ “  -Mark 7

The word “inception”, for the purposes of the Leonardo DiCaprio film, is defined as the process of “planting” an idea into the mind of a target subject by “breaking into” their dreams. If done properly, the mark would accept that idea as their own. In a debate about whether this was actually possible, one character explains that it is almost impossible because “the mind can always trace the origin of an idea back to its source.” The movie also describes an idea as the most powerful force in the universe – like an unstoppable virus it consumes the subject and forever changes them.

Consider for a moment that power – the ability to plant the seed of an idea that grows into an all-consuming passion – a simple suggestion that becomes the only reality that matters to your victim. How could an evil mind take advantage of such power? And how could you ever hope to defend against it?

The characters in the movie decide that, in order for the idea to take root, they would have to use the simplest version of the thought possible and use the subject’s fears, joys, relationships, and history to embed it as deep as possible. They battle the subject’s “projections”, who attack them to protect his mind. SPOILER ALERT: they succeed.

I found myself thinking of another “thought criminal.” At the dawn of the world, in the bliss of the Garden, the Serpent planted the simplest seed of rebellion possible: “Did God really say that?” For the balance of human history, to this very day, we fight to find the origin of that one thought. Its consequences color our every waking moment. Its outgrowth has warped the very fabric of the Creation itself. We are no longer who we were created to be, and we are weighted down by the notion that this is exactly how we want it. It is always there, tickling at the corner of our mind – “Did God really say…Did God really mean…Is God really God?” For the most part, we have no clue our thoughts have been tampered with. We can’t trace the origin of the idea. We are victims of a universal felony, and our minds are the scene of the crime.

Those of us who have been rescued by Jesus from “death into life” still fight the same battle. The difference is that we have been awakened to the presence of an intruder in our own psyche. We see that the enemy is within – plying the same trade, tilling deep to plant the same fabrication. Elemental to our survival is discerning the truth from the fiction, and to do so, we are taught to take our own thoughts prisoner:

⁵We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. (2 Cor. 10)

We can’t simply assume that our thoughts are our own. We must capture them, interrogate them, and determine their genesis; “Where do you come from? Who do you work for?” We must remain continually vigilant, always aware that the nemesis of our souls is at work in our old nature, attempting “inception” at every point of weakness. And we must discipline our minds to focus on truth, beauty, humility, and light.

⁸Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Phil. 4)

Personal story time: The Bible calls Satan “the accuser of our brothers.” In the battle of the mind, I have had one consistent recurring experience: when I am tired, overworked, hurting, lonely, or otherwise weak, I will suddenly remember a moment of personal failure. Often it will be something I haven’t thought of for years, or an event I barely remember. The accusing memory is almost always something I have repented of and committed to Jesus, not something I am being newly convicted of. It is sudden, acute, and always accompanied by a crippling sense of guilt and worthlessness. It overtakes my thoughts and becomes the center of my attention.

For years I struggled to “shake it off”, to try to forget, to “get past it.” To ignore it. But that proved only a short term solution, and in quiet moments, the accusation would come flooding back. It’s not enough to ignore the thought – you have to confront it. You have to back it into a corner at gunpoint and ask “where did you come from?” And don’t take “Orlando” for an answer. I’ve learned you have to then overwhelm guilt and fear with thoughts about truth, forgiveness, beauty, and prayer. This is the fight – it is active, visceral, and more real than the air we breathe.

Learning to live like Jesus begins with a change of heart and mind. A new thought. A beautiful, powerful, all-consuming reality: Grace. It is unmerited favor. Forgiveness. True freedom. Real peace. These are our new realities. We think on them to combat the distortion. God did say. God is. And we are His. In so doing we train our mind to recognize truth and to seek out and attack the lie, like so many mental white blood cells.

I encourage you to train your mind, to take up the fight. To test every thought. And to go see “Inception” in IMAX, because…wow! It will make your brain hurt, but it’s worth it…

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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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One week from tomorrow, God willing, we will welcome a fourth girl – Ella Rae – into our family. I was thinking tonight about the years we ached for just one child and the task we have now undertaken – raising 4 girls. It’s more than I ever hoped for, but now I’m praying (as I think all parents must) that it’s not more than I can handle…

As I think tonight about the mysteries of fathers and daughters, I randomly remembered this music video from our old pal Lindsay Lohan, back when she was a young starlet with a bright future. I don’t know how much of this is embellished and how much is autobiography, but I do remember how I felt when I saw it for the first time: physically ill. And maybe a little angry. And I am thinking now about the tragic turns her life has taken, and thinking that maybe we should have seen it coming back then.

I dream of another you, one who would never.
Never, leave me alone to pick up the pieces.
A Daddy to hold me, that’s what I needed.

Haunting. Especially for us father-types. When I see LiLo in a news story, I don’t see a hedonistic Hollywood celeb or a cautionary tale or a target of ridicule. I see the scared, angry, hurting little girl in this video. And I think two things:

One: Lindsay, you do have a Father dying to hold you, whole will never leave you alone, who will pick up the pieces. And He’s close. And it’s never too late.

Two: Dear God – make me like You so I don’t mess up my girls.

It’s not that I’m worried I will wake one day and realize I have suddenly become a violent alcoholic. Through the Spirit I’ve spent a lot of years of my life nailing a lot of natural inclinations (like bad temper and addictive personality) on a lot of big gnarly crosses. I’m also not thinking I will ever be perfect. I know I have a lot to learn, and that I’ll probably figure most of it out just in time to walk them down the aisle and hand them off to some other dude.

What I am concerned with is the thousand tiny steps from here to there – the millions of moments that make up the relationship between daddy and daughters. I want to get those right more than I get them wrong. I am a little worried I might wake up one day and realize I have suddenly become that distant, irrelevant, cold persona so many young girls see their father as. And I am hoping my concern is good proof that I’m on the right track.

So for what it’s worth, here’s what I think I know is important so far. I will be completely and uncomfortably transparent and tell you these are my prayers at the moment:

1. Four girls, a wife, and a neutered cat will live at my house. As the only dude in residence, I want to be a man, in every sense of the word, so my girls will know what that looks like. And so their future boyfriends fear for their safety. I pray I can learn from Jesus’ example how to be aggressive when it”s needed and lamb-like when it’s not, and what true masculinity is all about, beyond anatomy, meat-eating, and love of engine repair.
2. The prophet said of Jesus “a bruised reed he will not break.” As His disciple, I pray for a gentleness and discernment that will help me not crush the sensitive spirits of little girls with harsh words, impatience, or even good-natured teasing. I pray for the Holy Spirit to physically beat me senseless when I’m being a jerk to my wife or my girls. Maybe a tree could fall on my head from time time. That would do it.
3. I pray for eyes to see the unique gifts and greatnesses of each of my girls. They are all so different – the nature and nurture debate is settled for me – their personalities are hard-wired! And they all need to know they are just as God intended, that different is great, and they are fearfully and wonderfully made. Some people call that good self-esteem, I think of it more as healthy self-image – seeing who I am in through the eyes of the One who made me. I pray for the right words to encourage and build up and “fan into flame.”
4. I pray for the ability to provide security and stability for my family, so they can grow up without fear. I am also praying that God will help me rely on Him for security, stability, and provision, not just try to do it all myself. I’m still learning to trust. And I pray I win the lottery, even though I don’t play it. Or that at least one of them can get a football scholarship.
5. I pray Jesus will help me learn how to be a better husband. Fourteen years have come and gone, and I still don’t know what I’m doing. But my girls need to grow up with a real, live, functional “in-love” married couple living in their house so they know that it’s possible. It’s something I didn’t have modeled for me, and I am always needing the Spirit’s help to figure out how to make it better.
6. I pray God will keep me from sin and stupidity and boredom and idle hands. It would just be the absolute worst for my girls to have a hard time trusting or believing in God because I preached the Gospel then had a massive moral failure.
7. I pray my greatest achievements in discipleship would be leading Janae, Corinne, Maya, and Ella to become followers of Jesus – that they would not only be my daughters in the flesh, but my daughters in the Faith.
8. I pray I live a good long healthy  time so I can take my kids’ kids to Disneyland. And since faith without works is dead, I also pray for the discipline to get my sorry carcass back on the treadmill and to “just say no” to leftover Easter candy before I start losing appendages to retinopathy.
9. I pray all of my faults, weaknesses, and shortcomings would nullified by the grace, love, acceptance, and forgiveness of Jesus, shared freely in our home. I want our house to be a place of healing and hope. And I want my girls to rest knowing their father on Earth loves them, but their Father in Heaven loves them perfectly.

Maybe some of you older dads of daughters out there can give me a number ten – nine just seems incomplete. Or maybe you can just start a 12-step group for us. I’ll bring the brews.

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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’ve also been studying to teach about some of the “Hard Words of Jesus” at Redwood Hills. The upshot of both of those efforts is that I have been thinking a lot about Jesus’ ministry on a practical level – His words, His way of doing things, and how it affected the first generation of His disciples. A million deep thoughts come from that, but here’s one for today:

It’s hard to be like Jesus.

Anyone who’s known me for longer than 30 seconds knows I love Rich Mullins – even now so many years after his death, his words teach me. He wrote a song called “Hard” that addresses this very thing – it’s easy to get over-impressed with my general goodness – my Judeo-Christian American roots. My work ethic. the things I do and don’t do because I follow Jesus.

Well I do get a little much over-impressed
’til I think of Peter and Paul and the Apostles.
I don’t stack up too well against them, I guess,
But by the standards ’round here I ain’t doing that awful.

It’s hard to do what we know we should; it’s even harder to do it with the right heart, but that’s what Jesus asks of us. It is hard to be like Jesus. And I know I can’t even approach it on my own. Only the Holy Spirit, working in and through me, makes it even possible for me to do ONE right thing for the right reasons.

It’s a lot easier to stop at “legal” or “enough” or “acceptable.” It’s easier to justify, to forget, to judge others. It’s easier to lose track of days than it is to redeem the time.

But as I read the hard words of Jesus and the wisdom of Paul for young overseers, I want to do better, to reach farther, to try harder, to be a little more like Jesus every day. Not because it will make me successful or famous or even make me feel better, but because He is everything that is whole, healthy, beautiful, and right with the universe. If faith is a journey, I want to at least know that my chosen destination is a heart like his.

It’s a bit of a wistful rant, I know, and it’s nothing earth-shattering – just my thoughts today. I hope it encourages at least someone. It’s hard to be like Jesus. But He’s all I want to be. So no matter how hard, that’s what I’m going for. and through a thousand tiny corrections and revisions of heart and spirit and focus and action, may we each get a little closer every day. Oh – and here’s the lyrics to ponder – thanks Rich.

Well, I am a good Midwestern boy
I give an honest day’s work if I can get it
I don’t cheat on my taxes, I don’t cheat on my girl
I’ve got values that would make the White House jealous

Well, I do get a little much over-impressed
‘Til I think of Peter and Paul and the apostles
I don’t stack up too well against them I guess
But by the standards ’round here I ain’t doing that awful

Lord, it’s hard to turn the other cheek
Hard to bless when others curse you
Oh Lord, it’s hard to be a man of peace
Lord, it’s hard, oh it’s hard,
You know it’s hard to be like Jesus

And it’s hard to step out on them waves
Hard to walk beyond your vision
Oh Lord, it’s hard to be a man of faith
Lord, it’s hard (hard), Lord, it’s hard (so hard),
Oh Lord, it’s hard to be like Jesus
Don’t you know it’s hard (hard), oh it’s hard (yeah hard),
Oh Lord, it’s hard to be like Jesus

Well, His eye’s on the sparrow
And the lilies of the field I’ve heard
And He will watch over you and He will watch over me
So we can dress like flowers and eat like birds

And it’s hard when your soul had been stripped bare
Hard to lift your eyes toward Heaven
Oh Lord, it’s hard to be a man of prayer
Lord, it’s hard, oh it’s hard,
You know it’s hard to be like Jesus

Lord, it’s hard to be a man of peace
But it’s hard (so hard), ain’t it hard (hard),
You know it’s hard to be like Jesus

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As I prepare to share the story of how our family came to be this Sunday at Redwood Hills, I am thinking about one of the main questions we get asked a lot: are fertility treatments consistent with Christian ethics (or more like “are Christians allowed to do that kind of thing?”)? It’s a great question, and one we have spent plenty of time wrestling with. I won’t have time to go into any detail on Sunday, so I thought I would blog it here for you three readers (yes, we are up to three now ). Let me first lay some ground rules.

This is not the Law from Heaven on fertility treatments. It’s also not my attempt to help you circumvent the process of wrestling with this question. If you are facing it, you need to. To me this is not a political issue or a morality tale, it’s simply an intensely personal choice we had to apply our faith to. We hope we got it right. We did our homework. We prayed for wisdom. We believe we were heard.

THE STORY
After trying to conceive for something like 6 or 7 years, our doctor scheduled a surgery for my wife Stacey. He had seen a couple of possible issues on an ultrasound, but needed to operate to find out what was really going on. The surgery took an hour or two longer than it was supposed to. Instead of an outpatient, go home that night event, it ended up being a several day hospital stay. And we received our first real diagnosis: Endometriosis, which had badly damaged the fallopian tubes. “I just don’t think it’s going to happen.” That was the summary.

After recovery time from the surgery, we were presented with three options: 1. Keep trying and see what happens. 2. Adopt. 3. Look into IVF (in vitro fertilization – read up on it if you are unaware of this procedure – I will refer to a lot of things without explaining them all). Since our early 30′s were passing us by quickly, we chose to discard option 1 and evaluate the other two. Both presented a long and expensive road ahead with no guaranteed outcome. In the end we decided to exhaust whatever medical options we had that were consistent with our faith. This part of the decision was fairly subjective and personal – we believe in adoption and respect those who adopt, we simply wanted to keep trying to conceive first, then pursue adoption next.

As we investigated IVF, we carefully examined each part of the process and subjected it to some tests. The main principle we judged everything by was “can this be done in a way that is consistent with the value God places on human life?” The second part was “will our actions have any unintended consequences?” Third, “is this part of the process creating life (or ‘potential life’ for those who like to split hairs)?” If so, how is that life (potential life) treated?

Another principle was what I call the “Dr. Frankenstein test.” “Is this process or procedure attempting to “play God” and mess with the natural order of Creation?”

It sounds silly, but that last one is a rhetorical minefield. In reading lots of opinions, I found that there are good Christian folk who believe most modern medicine fits the Dr. Frank definition – we are playing God by keeping people alive in general. Not being a member of a cult, I reject that, but there has to be SOME ethical limit to medical science, right? Where is the line?

Maybe I can help advance that conversation by telling you what we decided would be consistent with our faith when approaching the IVF process:

1. We felt the process in and of itself is not evil, but could be used for evil.
2. Family planning in general is a decision to create or not create life based on a couple’s will. Since we don’t believe it is is evil to choose to get pregnant or prevent this creation of life through non-destructive contraception, it is not evil on its face to pursue fertility treatments that assist in conception (drug treatments, ovulation prediction, etc.).
3. Using modern medical techniques to circumvent a damaged reproductive organ (in this case fallopian tubes) in the pursuit of restoring a normal bodily function (reproduction) is not dissimilar to the use of an artificial heart or a thousand other medical techniques we accept as ethical.
4. Embryo creation, care, and handling would be the most critical ethical decisions we made, and we insisted on working with a doctor who allowed us to make every decision related to embryos.

I have to stop here and elaborate on some specific choices we made regarding embryos. We have long held that life begins at the point of conception. We read the words of many well-respected Christian thinkers and writers who prefer to say that “potential life” begins at conception, since an embryo cannot become a viable fetus without gestating to a minimum term. They would argue that viable life is created later, possibly at implantation into the uterine wall, possibly later. I concede that important point and respect their rhetorical stance. But rhetoric and theory take a back seat when you have to deal with potential life and death decisions, and for me I think this is one of those areas where we should err on the side of caution. Science apart from faith tells us that something unique happens when two reproductive cells combine to form one organism, and it is at this point that our ethics must be well thought out and carefully considered. And there’s only so much we as fallen humans can really know. Jesus teaches us to go beyond the Law to seek out true righteous acts. So just in case, we decided to treat embryos as de facto life and accord them respect, prayer, and careful handling. This led to a few other decisions:

1. We would only allow embryos to be created from our eggs and sperm, and only for implantation, not for research or donation. On the subject of donation, we really felt that if the eggs or sperm were not viable we would essentially be “adopting” someone else’s cells, and it would be better to offer a home to a child in need of adoption than to pursue donor cells. We also were not comfortable with the idea of donating embryos, as they would then leave our protection and we would have no guarantee they would be treated ethically.
2. We would use every embryo created, no matter how many rounds of IVF this required. This was a big decision, as it is common to harvest and create from 10-15 embryos each cycle. Most of these do not reach the stage where they can be implanted, but they could. We decided that if it were in our power, no viable embryos would be destroyed.
3. We prayed that we would have the wisdom to make the right decisions and that life would be honored with our choices. We felt great peace that God had heard and we were not disobeying Him or rationalizing, so we proceeded.

These decisions led us to ask lots of questions and deal very directly with our doctors. They also closed some doors for us financially (if you are willing to donate eggs, there are programs where the recipients pay for your IVF treatment, which can cost upwards of $15,000-$30,000). We also had to be very sure the tubes were the only issue and that pregnancy was otherwise possible.

We were blessed with doctors who were not only good at what they do, but listened to our concerns and complied with our wishes. We did two rounds of IVF. Both resulted in pregnancies (twins, then a single).  Both times, the doctors were unable to locate Stacey’s left ovary, so only a limited number of eggs could be harvested. In round one, we ended up with four viable embryos. In round two we had three. In both instances we implanted all of the embryos.

Implantation is a big day in IVF. It’s basically setting the embryo down in the uterus in hopes of it finding a home to grow, just like in the normal process. The doctors do all they can to prepare the body to receive an embryo with drugs and hormones and bed rest. But in the end, they can only create the conditions where it is likely. There are no guarantees.

Before the implantation, the embryologist gives you a blown-up microscope image of the embryos. He talks a lot about science and numbers and grades and ratings, but I didn’t pay much attention. To me, I was holding my babies’ first baby pictures, and that was a weighty moment.

Embryologist Guy then leaves you to your thoughts in the hallway while the procedure is happening. Those were profound moments for me as I walked the halls, gripping that photo and committing first four, then three potential lives and their safe keeping to my Father. After all the processes and all the procedures and everything modern medicine had to offer, we still came down to a moment out of anyone’s control.We could only ask God for help.

But for me, that’s how it had been all along.

Let me close by saying this is not a manifesto or meant to be an indictment of anyone’s choices in this realm. These are hard decisions, and we all have to make them the best we can. God is gracious and compassionate and faithful to lead us through the tough decisions. This is how he lead us. Would love to hear your story.

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There is none righteous.

Jesus came for one purpose – to fulfill the righteous requirements of the Law on our behalf. The Law was true, and just and good, but we were incapable of fulfilling it. The Law puts into writing the metaphysical reality of the universe as God created it – sin must be atoned for by the shedding of innocent blood. And  “when the time had fully come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under law, to redeem those under law, that we might receive the full rights of sons.” The single greatest truth in all of human history.

But the people of Jesus’ day missed the point, and many times we still do today (that’s a corporate “we” – meaning all of us, especially me). They missed that those “under the law” needed to be redeemed as much as everyone else. They were continually peppering Him with questions about the interpretation of the Law on specific points. In modern times, we dub this “legalism”. It is a perpetual obsession with the question: “How far is too far?” Or “Is it legal?”

In American society, we ask this question all the time. In business, sports, or relationships, what is the limit? What constitutes cheating – in my marriage or on my taxes? Is all really fair in love and war? What is “ethical” or “unethical.”

For the most part, we fall back on the rules. “Technically, my company does not prohibit X, so it is not wrong.” “No one directly asked me just the right question, so I didn’t lie.” And so on. When faced with the Word in the Flesh, the questions were similar:

Is it lawful to heal on the Sabbath?

Is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife for any and every reason?

Why do your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They don’t wash their hands before they eat!

One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question:”Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?”

When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the “sinners” and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?”

These are questions dripping with self-righteousness and self-justification. “I follow the letter of the law, so I am right.” This in a culture where following the Law was the only path to salvation. They forgot that Abraham was justified by his faith BEFORE the law (but I digress, read Hebrews and Romans for more on that). To Jesus, “right” was simply not enough:

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples: ‘The teachers of the law and the Pharisees sit in Moses’ seat. So you must obey them and do everything they tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy loads and put them on men’s shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.  Everything they do is done for men to see…

‘Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cummin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.  Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.’

We are increasingly interested in legalism. Both wings of Christianity use it to justify their actions. “The Bible doesn’t say this is wrong specifically, so it’s okay for me to do whatever I want.” TRANSLATION: “It’s not against the rules.” On the other end, “You don’t follow every rule in the Bible the way I do or think you should, therefore you are wrong, and I have moral authority.” TRANSLATION:  “I am right because I follow the rules better.”

The religious people of Jesus day relied on their own righteousness. Jesus taught that “right” just wasn’t enough. You have to be redeemed. And reborn. To the religious, he says:

I tell you the truth, the tax collectors and the prostitutes are entering the kingdom of God ahead of you. For John came to you to show you the way of righteousness, and you did not believe him, but the tax collectors and the prostitutes did. And even after you saw this, you did not repent and believe him.

To the libertine he says:

Anyone who breaks one of the least of these commandments and teaches others to do the same will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

And then launches into a series of teachings (Matthew 5-7) on how to have a righteousness that exceeds legalism.

To us all, He says:

“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

For my part, I have lived in both extremes – I grew up in a world that valued outward piety and regard for “the rules”, with little thought of the heart and no room for failure or forgiveness. I have also at times believed the lie that “if it isn’t in the rule book, it’s okay to do and be proud of, even if it violates my conscience” is a valid way to see the world. So you see, I really am talking about me .

This Christmas, as I think about the Baby who came to save us all, I am praying He will save me from legalism – both self-righteous brands of it – and free me to live in forgiveness, grace, and true right acts and attitudes. The promise of the Manger and the Cross are that we can be released from our sin and guilt and free to learn to live like Jesus. If we are truly free, then, let’s not create chains of legalism for ourselves – even if it affects our free time activities or sense of smug self-worth.

Oh – and Merry Christmas!

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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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A decade ago the Christian Church in America was at the apex of a movement to seek more relevant ways to engage our culture and put more keisters in our buildings every Sunday. That last part sounds cynical, but it’s the best way I can describe it. That was the point – to grow our attendance. And that was important, because most of us had some buildings to fill, and those gigantic mortgages don’t pay themselves. As a result, we engaged in market research and applied countless business methods to our ministries, all in the hopes of reversing what we had just then realized was a steady decline in attendance.

I won’t bore you with the details of everything that came from that, but I will oversimplify: The “seeker-sensitive” movement led to the founding of mega-churches, which led to the “emerging church” movement (define that however you like – I can’t anymore), all of which were centered around the relentless pursuit, as near as I can tell, of the answer to this question from the 90′s:

Q: How can we present the Gospel in a way that is acceptable to present-day Americans?

A: (If I may be so bold) You can’t.

 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean that you can’t create a church that non-churchy people will like. I think it’s entirely possible to create a social organization that attracts people of all stripes. And it’s frankly not that hard. I have some good marketing books you can read. Build or rent a building. Make it like a community center or a mall or a performing arts center. Then put on lots of free or cheap events and start a lot of programs. Make sure you avoid anything that looks or feels remotely religious or Christian or “Churchy”. Adopt the culture’s fashion, media, catch-phrases, consumption habits, and political points of view. Loudly proclaim these as proof of your hipness. Get a few tattoos.

If you want to go all the way, you will also need to develop a keen sense of the stupidity of church culture (even that of your own church) and blog about it. A lot. Self-deprecating online humor is extremely important - you want to make sure the online culture knows that you know that they think you’re idiots, and you pretty much agree.

It’s all marketing. Viral marketing, direct marketing, plan ol’ marketing marketing. It’s all putting lipstick on a pig (to turn a phrase in hopes of getting unrelated Google click throughs). And it all may very well be a waste of time. Because the pig in this metaphor is the Gospel. And ain’t ever gonna look too purty to some folk.

 

After buying the program, participating in, propagating, preaching, and purveying the ridiculous notion that the Gospel can be made palatable through proper packaging, I have decided we have believed a lie. And we should have known it all along. The generation before us thought political action could make God’s laws into America’s policies (think Moral Majority, Religious Right). Our generation believed cultural relevance would draw the world to our edifices (think rock and roll worship and social justice). But Paul gave us the score two millennia ago. We just didn’t want to believe it. We still don’t.

“…Christ did not send me to baptize, but to preach the gospel—not with words of human wisdom, lest the cross of Christ be emptied of its power. For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.

Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.

- I Corinthians 1

If you’ve read anything else I’ve ever written, you know I don’t think relevance in and of itself is a bad thing. Neither is alcohol. But they’re both pretty destructive when they become the center of your existence. It’s all about the focus – are you a culturally relevant individual who has surrendered to the message of Jesus and now is trying to love your community and preach the same message to your culture? Great. Are you a culturally irrelevant person trying to be hip so that people will think you are cool and (by extension) so is the gospel? Not great.

A Personal Story to Make the Point

I grew up poor. And nerdy. And socially inept. In the 80′s. As we all know from John Hughes films, the one thing that could propel you from geek to chic in that era was the right clothes. Name brand clothes. So when I started making money for myself (paper route in the 40 below zero winters of central Montana), I bought the right clothes. The right shoes. The stuff everyone else had. Didn’t help. Was still a geek (back when that was a bad thing). Still am (though we geeks now run the world, so it’s not all bad anymore ).  No amount of proper clothing could change the fact that I was a brainy, sheltered, non-athletic, poor kid from the trailer park, and therefore very uncool. I got beat up just as much in my Nikes as I did in my Kmart brand shoes.

Some of you are thinking “Aha!” He’s just bitter because of Junior High! Trust me – I’m over it. But I do really wish I had learned the lesson of so many years ago and applied it to church philosophy a lot sooner.

We Preach Christ…

“We preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews (the religious) and foolishness to Gentiles (the intellectual).” Those words haunt me these days. As I look back over the years I realize we have preached Christ a lot of other ways.

We preach Christ the problem-solver. Christ the relevant. Christ the political activist. Christ the community organizer. Christ the Conservative. Christ the Liberal. Christ the weak. Christ the strong. Christ the best friend. Christ the personal choice. Christ the judge. Christ the path to success. Christ the rich. Christ the poor.

Christ the crucified is foolish to the intellectual. He doesn’t fit the Messiah image of the religious. He is too Liberal for the Conservatives. He is too Conservative for the Liberals. He is too demanding to the self-centered. He is too gracious to the self-righteous. He is too ambiguous to the fundamentalist. He is too specific to the libertine.

In a word, He is offensive.

This is the wonder and beauty of the Cross. That is God on that Cross. So powerful he can kill us all with a word. So gracious He allows His own death. If I believe that anything I have ever done, thought, said, or worn means anything in light of the Cross, then it’s time to go back and look again.

I am not arguing for an irrelevant church culture. I am arguing for the abolition of church culture. Let’s stop trying to be attractive. The Cross isn’t. And it is the single defining reality of our new existence – the beginning point of our journey.

I am convinced that true followers of Christ have all been captured by the Cross. We have all come to the understanding that our life, accomplishments, righteousness, possessions, and even our relevance are filthy rags in light of that sacrifice. We have found peace, grace, forgiveness , and hope at the Cross. And no one who has yet to be so captured, wrecked, and ruined will ever understand that. To explain our new life, all we can say is “Christ, crucified.” This is our only remaining credential. Our only word. Our only answer. Our only interest.

Here’s my thought. Let’s stop trying to be relevant. Let’s embrace the truth – the Cross will never be beautiful. Except to us.

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Evil.

There are some who disagree. They say this was justice – payback for years of American Imperialism and greed – some even say God’s judgement against us. If you want to decide what’s God’s judgement and what’s not (say for instance you’re John Piper and you like to interpret the weather), more power to you. I don’t claim that prophetic authority, and it is God’s to judge the merits of those who do. For me, one thing was abundantly clear: brutally murdering thousands of men, women, and children is evil. Cowardly, vile, despicable, murderous, and evil.

Many debate the existence of evil. Still others accept that evil exists, but contend that it can be reasoned with and convinced to be less evil-y. The Bible sees evil as a cancer, to be rooted out and purged. Willfully attacked and eradicated. Stood against. Hated. It teaches us that sin entered the world through the partaking of fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Every one of us is born with the innate ability to understand right and wrong, good and evil, righteousness and sin. And god calls us to hate evil and cling to what is good. Without apology, I hate what was done 8 years ago today.

I think my news radio habit started that day. For weeks after, we had the radio playing most of the time at the office, hearing the latest updates from three ground zeroes, hearing the latest speeches and announcements and casualty reports. To this day scarcely a day goes by that I don’t listen to or watch news and talk programs (much to the dismay of everyone who has to ride in a car with me).

This morning as I drove into Seattle in the pre-dawn hours, many had already gathered in New York City to remember 9/11. when I turned on the radio, they were reading the names of every victim, firefighter, policeman, and hero who died that day. I was struck with that remembrance, 8 years later. Not one is forgotten. Not one is left out. And in that recitation I heard the heart of God, who remembers every victim of evil, from the blood of Abel to the end of the age, and promises to never leave us, and that someday this too shall be made right. I was comforted by these words from Isaiah 43:

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
       I have summoned you by name; you are mine. 

 ² When you pass through the waters,
       I will be with you;
       and when you pass through the rivers,
       they will not sweep over you.
       When you walk through the fire,
       you will not be burned;
       the flames will not set you ablaze.

Not one who suffered from the evil of that day or any other is forgotten. God promises that when we face evil, He is with us. And the story of the Bible begins and ends with a promise – evil was never meant to rule us, and it will someday be destroyed.

Billy Crockett wrote a song a long time ago inspired by the act of partaking in the Lord’s Table (Communion). His words are appropriate for today (transcribed the best I can remember it):

Pieces of life laid on the table
Here is the bread of life offered for us
Fill this cup, raise it up
Here’s to the Day- remember.

Can you sing for the ones whose voices are silenced?
Can you sing for the ones who’ve never been free?
Can you pray for peace, ache for peace?
Here’s to the Day that’s coming
God speed the Day…

Here’s to the Day – remember.

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I'm Kind of a Big Deal

At last we come to the end: Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly. Now for the “walk humbly” part.

It would be hard to argue the fact that Will Ferrell’s supreme gift is his ability to create  characters that are big, loud, dumb - yet somehow lovable - horse’s rear ends. In so doing, he exposes the tendency in us all to think a little more highly of ourselves than our actual greatness merits. The prima facie case, of course, is his ass-ertion in “Anchor Man”:

“I’m not sure how to say this, but I’m kind of a big deal.”

I think most of the time I’m painfully aware of my own weaknesses and shortcomings. But there are days. Days when it’s easy to believe you are the sharpest crayon in your little box. Which reminds me of a North Dakotan joke (we tell those in Montana): What do you call a North Dakotan with half a brain? A genius. You see what I mean? Now I’ve isolated my North Dakotan readership with arrogant presumption and derision of their mental proficiencies. If they have finally gotten the Internet there, I’m hosed!

And God asks us to walk humbly with Him. Which leads the finite logical mind to start down a road of self-justification. We ask:

“Why does God care if we are humble? If He’s so great and we’re so..not great, what’s He trying to prove? Does He need us to grovel to feel good about Himself? Does He just want us constantly reminded we are less than navel lint? Is He that insecure?”

There’s a whole school of thought in Christianity that focuses squarely on one core truth, first and foremost: all of humanity is sinful, fallen, broken, perverted, lost, and incapable of even the slightest shred of decency. This fact is driven home with endless lists of why, how, and for which of our acts we are eternally fallen beyond all repair. Jonathan Edwards delivered the master thesis on the subject, and though many others have followed, few have matched his rhetorical sound and fury. Here’s a fun quote:

O sinner! Consider the fearful danger you are in: ’tis a great furnace of wrath, a wide and bottomless pit, full of the fire of wrath, that you are held over in the hand of that God, whose wrath is provoked and incensed as much against you as against many of the damned in hell; you hang by a slender thread, with the flames of divine wrath flashing about it, and ready every moment to singe it, and burn it asunder; and you have no interest in any mediator, and nothing to lay hold of to save yourself, nothing to keep off the flames of wrath, nothing of your own, nothing that you ever have done, nothing that you can do, to induce God to spare you one moment.

The thing is, Edwards and his ilk are totally right. We are scum. And outside of life in Jesus, incapable of any goodness of our own. But this is not the core message of the Gospel. Else wise (to use the olde English) it is not that great of news. It’s like having your death sentence commuted to life in solitary confinement. You’ve escaped death, but to live what kind of life?

Even Edwards did not focus entirely on God’s wrath (though he and the other Awakening chaps seemed a bit obsessed with the subject). The insanely good news the Gospel represents, as we have said before, is that we are freed from death to life. Real, complete, and full life. In redeeming us from our sins, God is acting to set the world right – to operate as He intended, in relationship with us.

So back to walking humbly. I think it’s about balance (surprise, surprise). Our focus is not on how sinful and hopeless our nature is (though we agree it is). Jesus died for our sins so we can be free from them and their guilt. But our eyes are also not fixed squarely on just how special we are because we have been brought to the truth. We are no better in and of ourselves, but we also no longer rely on our own goodness alone.

On the other end of things from those who flog their congregations weekly with just how rotten they are (not a hard hypothesis to support) are the equally imbalanced Christian Tony Robbinses (is that the plural of Robbins?) who tout the greatness of themselves, their church, their teachings, and so on.

Not long ago I saw a TV commercial for a church showing good looking, young, suburban hipsters sitting at church together and having many good times reading the Bible. The voice over was a pastor saying how the people of the church were “cool, and smart, and good looking.”  I am not making this up. Translation: Jesus makes your teeth whiter and your clothes hipper and your IQ higher. As if. And monkeys might…

The grunge / indie / urban / emergent / emerging /  new skool / postmodern – whatever you call the Christians with their finger on the pulse of American culture (I can’t keep the names straight) – dudes now have an even newer twist on this old trend: putting together websites to critique the ridiculousness and excesses of other Christians, or even rate their churches. Translation: the idiots we write about are lame, but we know they are, so we are not lame. We are cool Christian people who are hip and with the times. You know – like all the guys back in high school who had to tell you they were cool and / or not lame. Those guys rocked!

And here I am blogging about how much better I am than them, because I have seen their hypocrisy. Oops.

You see the problem, right? Both ends suffer from a Ron Burgandy brand of narcissism. “I’m kind of a big deal.” And God reminds us to walk humbly – to remember that we are capable of excess, and capable of excessively critiquing the excesses of others. To recall the state we were rescued from, and to remember that apart from God’s grace we’d slide right back into it. And to put our sin in its place – not as the center of our every conversation, but nailed to the Cross.

 And nothing rings more true in my own soul than this great truth: “In Him we live, and move, and have our being.” That is, everything on earth draws its life and breath and existence from God Himself. And in realizing that I am utterly dependent on Him, not only for salvation, but for my daily existence, I find the most profound peace and comfort. I am not a big deal. But I know someone who is. And for now, He covers me.

It’s pretty easy for me to think I’m a big deal. It’s also pretty easy for me to become obsessed with my own shortcomings, replaying my own “fail blog” in my my head in the darkest hours of the night. But God invites me to walk humbly with Him. Not on my own with my issues, not full of my own greatness. With Him. And I really like that idea.

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 I was born in Turkey, but only because my father was in the Air Force. We moved to Montana when I was a year old (they have lots of missile silos there), and I graduated from Great Falls High. So now you know two important things: I grew up in a military family and a fairly small, reasonably isolated city in the middle of the plains (the only thing historically notable about my home town is that Lewis and Clark had to take their boats out of the Missouri there and portage around the giant waterfalls).

I’ve spent the last 16 years of my life in Western Washington, mostly in the Seattle area. So in the next two years, that balance will tip, and I will have spent half my life in each place – both of which have radically different views on America and what it means to be an American.

You also know (unless this is your first visit), that I am a disciple of Jesus and have spent the last 16 years pursuing and practicing pastoral ministry. So I have what may be considered three potentially conflicting views on the nation I didn’t choose to be born in, but am proud to call my country.

It’s popular today to say incendiary things about America. Phrases like “imperialism”, “injustice”, “oppression” and “downright mean” have been used to describe our nation. On the other side of the fence are died in the wool patriot types who respond with, “America – love it or leave it!” and the like. As followers of Christ, we can find in our ranks those who adhere to each extreme – those who see America as a land of great evil and injustice, and those who see her as God’s new chosen people, incapable of doing any wrong.

I don’t identify with either extreme. I love America, but my devotion to my country is limited by the nature of what America is – a human nation. While I could make the case that the American Experiment is one of the freest, fairest, and just forms of government ever conceived, at the end of the day, it is still only an earthly kingdom.

As followers of Christ, our first allegiance is not to a country, a flag, a system of government, a history, an ideology, a political party, or a group of people – it is to the Creator and His kingdom. This is why Jesus taught us to pray for His kingdom to come and why he actively rejected the zealot and nationalist arguments that His purpose as Messiah was to overthrow Rome and “restore the kingdom to Israel.” His mission was to open the doors of the Kingdom to come to everyone who would hear, receive, and live by His words.

As such, our primary concern is for ALL the people of the world, not just the people of America. Our mission is not to propagate a government, a culture, or a way of life. It is to carry the life-giving words of Jesus to the ends of the earth, to make disciples in every nation, and wait expectantly for the return of our King.

This does not mean, however, that we disconnect from our country or culture (as so many Christians have tried to do). It does not mean that we can’t see the positive in our nation and celebrate its strengths. It DOES mean that this are not the things we live and die for.

So this doesn’t get TOO long, allow me to post some random rants in the form of bullet points – here is what I am thinking:

• Americans have a free and prosperous culture. This is a potentially great benefit to the cause of Christ. I believe we who are given such incredible resources should not feel guilty, but rather blessed and also do everything in our power to maximize the resources we have been given to serve the cause of Christ. The New Testament teaches us the we are all given different measures of grace, and those who receive much will be held responsible for what they do with it. This is a great privilege and a great responsibility.
   
• America is not without faults and far from perfect, and pointing out that fact is not un-patriotic. In a free society, we should hold our leaders to a high standard and speak out when they deviate from that standard.
   
• Our goal as people of faith is not to make a “more Christian” nation – it is to use the freedoms we have to tell everyone we can of true freedom and hope in Jesus – to use our freedom to fulfill Christ’s commands. From that perspective, I am thankful to be an American and have the immense opportunities we have.
   
• Jesus did not die to form the United States. We, like every other nation, will be judged by our actions, and must walk humbly in light of that.
   
• As a follower of Jesus, I do not revel in or celebrate war, I pray for peace. But I also recognize that in a fallen world, the use of force is sometimes necessary to prevent or combat evil. I actively pray that world leaders, including our leaders, will know the difference.
   

I love being an American. I believe our founding fathers truly acknowledged God’s existence, and that led them to form a nation with freedom and responsibility. Not perfect, but perhaps the closest human governments have ever come to a free, fair, and open society.

I also believe that America, like every nation before it or to come after, pales in comparison to the Kingdom to come. I believe Paul when he reminds us “this world in its present form is passing away.”

I got to see Rich Mullins in Seattle before he died suddenly in a car wreck. It was a moving experience. He was so humble and genuine and loved Jesus in a way you could hear in his music, but feel when you saw him in person. It was a free show at SPU. At the end of the concert, the crowd, like crowds do) chanted for an encore. Rich came back and led in some popular worship tunes from his guitar. At the end of one the whole crowd sang together a Capella, and when the sound died down and the song was over, we looked up and he was just gone.

I say that to say this – to me, no one has captured the balance, the weightiness and wonder of what it is to be an American and a Christ follower better than Rich Mullins. He expresses both the greatness and imperfection of our country, without resorting to bitter vitriol. I leave you with the lyrics of “Land of My Sojourn”. The best way I can think to explain how I feel is this line :

 
“Nobody tells you when you get born here
How much you’ll come to love it
And how you’ll never belong here
So I call you my country
And I’ll be lonely for my home
I wish that I could take you there with me”
 

Enjoy. And happy Independence Day.

“And the coal trucks come a-runnin’
With their bellies full of coal
And their big wheels a-hummin’
Down this road that lies open like the soul of a woman
Who hid the spies who were lookin’
For the land of the milk and the honey
And this road she is a woman
She was made from a rib
Cut from the sides of these mountains
Oh these great sleeping Adams
Who are lonely even here in paradise
Lonely for somebody to kiss them
and I’ll sing my song ~ and I’ll sing my song
In the land of my sojourn

And the lady in the harbor
She still holds her torch out
To those huddled masses who are
Yearning for a freedom that still eludes them
The immigrant’s children see their brightest dreams shattered
Here on the New Jersey shoreline in the
Greed and the glitter of those high-tech casinos
But some mendicants wander off into a cathedral
And they stoop in the silence
And there their prayers are still whispered
And I’ll sing their song, and I’ll sing their song
In the land of my sojourn

Nobody tells you when you get born here
How much you’ll come to love it
And how you’ll never belong here
So I call you my country
And I’ll be lonely for my home
And I wish that I could take you there with me

And down the brown brick spine of some dirty blind alley
All those drain pipes are drippin’ out the last Sons Of Thunder
While off in the distance the smoke stacks
Were belching back this city’s best answer

And the countryside was pocked
With all of those mail pouch posters
Thrown up on the rotting sideboards of
These rundown stables like the one that Christ was born in
When the old world started dying
And the new world started coming on
And I’ll sing His song, and I’ll sing His song
In the land of my sojourn

And I will sing His song
In the land of my sojourn”

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For some reason today I kept thinking of Jerry Seinfeld. I remember seeing Seinfeld one Leno on night. It was the first time I had seen him do anything since the end of the show Seinfeld. He had gone back to stand-up, and was on the show doing a set. He began by saying that he had recently gotten married and had a baby. His first laugh line was something to the effect of, “I know this comes as a shock to many of you, because it really didn’t look like things were heading this way!”

He was of course referring to his celebrated bachelorhood and lack of “settled-down family guy” qualities. But I think of that statement sometimes in a totally different way that applies to me…

For a long time, it looked like things weren’t headed toward me being a father.

Most  anyone who reads this thing I call a blog (loosely so) knows what I mean, so I will spare the details, but in case someone gets here by unfortunate web searching luck, the short version is that it took ten years for my wife and I to have our first kids (twin girls). For a long time, it looked like fatherhood might not be in the cards.

We have three beautiful girls now (three year old twins Janae and Corinne and five month old baby Maya) and a crazy life, but I love and live every second of it (even the parts I complain about). Every sleepless night, every full diaper, every potty training fiasco and every one of the tens of thousands of dollars already spent are well worth it for the gift of being called Daddy.

I am profoundly thankful for the gifts God has given us in giving us these three to love and protect. I don’t know if I’m a great Dad, but I try. And it always means something to me – every step along the way, because we are living a dream that we thought, more than once, was lost to us. My Father understood the desires of our hearts, and though for His own reasons we had to wait, in the end we feel like we got the Job deal – the blessing we received later was far greater than what we would have had without enduring the hardship.

I am a lucky man, and I just had to tell someone. Now for the obligatory proud dad photo. Enjoy!

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It’s easy to see why. There is a lot of unavenged evil in the world. Sometimes it seems like the purveyors of injustice get a free pass. And it’s easy to believe that it would be nice to see some “enforced justice” handed out. Like the Charles Bronson / Dirty Harry / Punisher sort.

In American Cinema, this is a much-celebrated concept – the lone hero who, avenging the murder of his wife / girlfriend / niece / distant cousin, metes out justice from the barrel of a .45. The judge, jury, and executioner who prowls the city looking for evil-doers and gives them what they’ve got coming. The Paul Kersey, Wyatt Earp, Rifleman,  Regulators, William Munny, most of Schwarzenegger’s characters, and Denzel Washngton in “Man on Fire” – types. Guys who know how to set things straight.

And always the unspoken rule of film vigilante justice is this: If sufficient cause can be established, no amount of punishment is excessive. For catharsis to be cathartic, it has to be limitless in its brutality. After all, the bad guys had it comin’ (say it with me, “we’ve all got it coming, kid.”).

Sometimes we people of faith don’t veer far from this script. We know from God’s words that He hates sin and injustice. So do we. We’re sure there is a special place in hell for the perpetrators of evil. Murderers, rapists, child molesters, investment bankers – all have a day of reckoning ahead. We tremble with anticipation at the thought. Some day, this too shall be made right. We envision the Action Avenger Hero Jesus, dispatching the wicked to the lake of fire with a pithy send-off line (“You’re fired!” or “The heat is on!” or “If you can’t stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen!” I’ve got a thousand of these).

That’s why it’s such a big let-down when God doesn’t take the kill shot.

We have this heart in common with Jonah. You know – “Go to Nineveh! No, I will run away! (Jaws music). Big fish digestive tract. Okay I’ll go! Fish blows chunks” – that Jonah. My favorite part of that story is not the barfing fish. It’s the tantrum in Jonah 3-4.

  ¹⁰ God saw what they had done, that they had turned away from their evil lives. He did change his mind about them. What he said he would do to them he didn’t do.

^1-2Jonah was furious. He lost his temper. He yelled at God, “God! I knew it—when I was back home, I knew this was going to happen! That’s why I ran off to Tarshish! I knew you were sheer grace and mercy, not easily angered, rich in love, and ready at the drop of a hat to turn your plans of punishment into a program of forgiveness! ³“So, God, if you won’t kill them, kill me! I’m better off dead!”

Up to this point, it’s a pretty good film script. Sort of “Jaws” meets “The Perfect Storm” with a promise of a disaster movie finale (think “Armageddon” if the nukes hadn’t saved everyone because the asteroid was heading for ancient Assyria and Space Shuttles, nukes, and Aerosmith hadn’t yet been invented). Then God has to go and NOT take out the bad guys. It’s like the Dark Knight has the Joker cornered and Jokie says “you know, I’m really sorry for what I’ve done” and Batman says, “oh, well in that case, go about your business. See you at the company picnic.” Good film. Bad ending.

The analogy fits because the Assyrians (Nineveh being their capitol) were no slouches in the “perpetrating evil” department. They were well-known for their brutality, and Israel had most likely just recently thrown off their domination. Jonah is sent to tell his former oppressors they can be saved from judgement. He’s hoping to be an abject failure in persuading them to repent.

But the hero of our story is not the amoral avenger. He is not the merciless exacter of punishment. He is not a blunt instrument of vengeance. He is not Klaatu, sent to dispassionately wipe us out for our naughtiness. He is our Father, and we are His children.

Detractors to faith often say they have a problem with the Old Testament “fire and brimstone, bloody God” who kills at a whim and spares no one. But the crux message of the prophets was not God’s judgement, but the possibility of God’s mercy. Not a judgemental God, but a relenting God. We miss this because of our modern American narcissism and over-wrought self-esteem. We place the burden of proof on God – prove to me that I am worthy of judgement. The Old Testament writers presumed the opposite, that since the Fall we are all guilty. Getting what we deserve is a metaphysical inevitability, as sure as “what goes up must come down.” God NOT judging us is worth taking note of.

And He wants us to love mercy because HE does. You would think He, like us, would love judgement, because it sets things right. But it doesn’t. It never could. Because that’s not the way He built the universe. He always wanted to be our Father, to gather us close, to shelter, protect, provide, and give and receive love. But we would not. We ran. He pursued. We fought Him. He gave everything to buy us back.

 Jonah ends abruptly with God justifying his kindness (“Should I not be concerned about that great city?”). What a weighty thought – that God would have to explain that He is actually being good for not wiping out a city. What does a deity have to do?! But not so surprising really. Maybe our greatest modern sin is that we have conjured up a vengeful, spiteful God, then cursed Him for not living up to our expectations. We shake our heads at His perceived blood-thirst in the Old Testament, then shake our fists because He has not eradicated evil in our day.

The truth is that He is holding off on judgement as long as possible because He loves mercy. And so should we.

I am praying that I will see the world like Jesus. Not like Jonah. Or Charles Bronson.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s where this particular sub-thread began – it’s kind of a serial-blogging (or serial killing of the concept of blogging), so I like to link back to touchstones…

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Global justice is a big chalupa. Economic, social, political, and religious inequities abound. I am increasingly convinced that during this moment of grace we live in – somewhere between the Resurrection and the Final Judgement, injustice will continue to abound. This is not to say I am fatalistic about the subject. God commands us to pursue justice, and we must, even if we can’t fix it all. 

But I find in Scripture a profound emphasis on another term that find itself in vogue today – personal responsibility. Simply put, justice begins with me. God’s heart is that I first and foremost consider my own actions. Have I marginalized, oppressed, manipulated or misused? Have I gone out of my way to use money, position, relationship, and authority in ways that honor, benefit, and respect others? Some proof texts are included below.

There is, however, a seemingly subtle yet vital distinction that could be a danger here. We must seek to rid our lives of prejudice, bigotry, hatred, and injustice. But we must not define these concepts or allow them to be defined by our own experience, pre-conceived notions, or soceital norms. Our culture does not define justice. Justice does not conform to our personal history, moral equivalence, social contruction theory, or any other relativistic norm.

God defines justice.

In this area, we are most fortunate, as we have been given ample evidence in the form of Scripture to help us understand how God sees the world. He teaches us to love people and use money, not the other way around. He teaches us to be always mindful of the poor and weak and do what we can to help. He commands us to defend the powerless.

And for the most part, He begins and ends the discussion with each of us, individually. John the Baptist criticized the local governor for his sexual immorality (and was imprisoned an eventually executed because of it), but he spent most of his time talking to individuals about repentance and personal change (Luke 3). Jesus skillfully and purposefully skirted questions about the evils of government systems and insisted on focusing hearers on the one thing they could control – their own actions (Matthew 17:24-26, Matthew 22:16-22, Matthew 5-7). The New Testament writers taught their readers to do good, obey those in authority, and concentrate on individual righteous acts (Romans 13:1-8, Titus 3:1-8, 2 Peter 2:13-25, and pretty much the rest of the epistles).

I am not saying that we should not concern ourselves with global issues. We should. I am not saying we should not be aware of political issues, form opinions, and support causes. We should. I AM saying that our causes, opinions, and actions proceed out of the understanding of what God’s view of justice really is, as demonstrated in Scripture, and begin with our own family, friends, and sphere of influence.

And the Bible makes it clear that God will judge the nations. The powerful New Testament imagery of that judgement involves sickles, winnowing forks, fire, wheat, chaff, and the like. Jesus promises “…the Son of Man is going to come in his Father’s glory with his angels, and then he will reward each person according to what he has done.”

If we pursue justice individually, we are able to provide to others an example of how God sees the world and how the Kingdom of God operates. And the world around us may well change. To that I say  Amen (let it be so).

A disturbing trend I am noticing, however, is that some people of faith are more concerned with public opinion or cultural relevance than actual Scripture-centric justice.

For instance, the fact that I do not agree with our culture on a certain social or political issue does not, by definition, make me a racist, sexist, bigot, hatemonger, or otherwise unjust person. It does not mean I am marginalizing someone else, even if my culture accuses me of it. It simply means that God’s laws are in contradiction with culture’s rationalizations. When questioned, I have to point this out.

This also does not mean we are called to crusade against culture. We are called to love, extend grace, and practice mercy. We love people. We accept everyone. When we have to speak the truth, we do it with gentleness and respect. But within our communities of faith, we also seek to establish norms of righteous behavior. Not everything is up for interpretation.

I am really arguing for balance here. There is a whole other discussion to be had about how moral issues should be approached with those who are not Christ followers and those who claim to be. Paul says we should not, for instance, blindly ignore egregious, public  sexual sin perpetrated by a fellow believer in the name of being gracious ( “I am writing you that you must not associate with anyone who calls himself a brother but is sexually immoral or greedy, an idolater or a slanderer, a drunkard or a swindler.“ ), but makes the distinction that this “hand them over to Satan” approach is NOT for those outside of faith (“I have written you in my letter not to associate with sexually immoral people— ¹⁰not at all meaning the people of this world who are immoral…In that case you would have to leave this world… ¹²What business is it of mine to judge those outside the church? Are you not to judge those inside? ¹³God will judge those outside.“).

But beyond that debate, when we talk about justice, I have two great concerns:

1. We must understand that justice, in God’s eyes, begins and ends with me and the things I have power over.
2. We must not allow culture or experience to dictate what is just. We must seek to understand God’s view of justice.

You may be thinking that I got off of the subject of justice and strayed into the minefield of morality, culture war, and church discipline haphazardly and incongruously. But I am seeing these things are becoming increasingly intertwined in our world.

“Social justice” as defined outside of a framework of faith is being used to normalize abhorrent behavior, and many well-meaning Christians are co-opting these ideas in an effort to be culturally relevant, to have a voice in the dialog. I understand the arguments and empathize with the desire to love the world without judgement and condemnation, just as Jesus did. But that desire can’t translate into a normalization within communities of faith of practices the Bible specifically calls out as sin or the celebration of culture that promotes them. We must affirm within our communities that certain things are wrong and those who practice them within the community should be confronted, and those who do so outside the community should be invited to become disciples of Jesus so that they may be freed from such bondages. And I use the word bondage on purpose – the Bible uses the same terms for sin – bondage, slavery, etc.

Social justice that normalizes and elevates to acceptability destructive, sinful behavior is the worst kind of false hope – it promises freedom and delivers slavery and death.

You will note that I have carefully not mentioned specific issues. This is because the issues themselves are so controversial, mentioning them would distract from the point I am making. In conclusion, I should restate that point:

We must, as people of faith, seek justice. We must speak out against injustice perpetrated by individuals as well as by our and other governments. We must attempt to affect positive change. The basis of our understanding of what is just must be what God has said, not what our culture says. And the most important concern for each of us is what we can best control – how we treat those in our direct sphere of influence. That last part I am praying a lot about. Here are my questions, in case they are any help to you:

• Do I love people and use money, or love money and use people?
• Do I make judgement calls about those around me based on race, sex, creed, or past actions? If so, are these in line with Scripture?
• Have I taken advantage of others, or gone out of my way to treat others fairly?
• For those whom I occasionally employ, do I compensate fairly and deal honestly?
• Am I complying with both the spirit and the letter of the laws of our land whenever possible (except in clear cases where the law contradicts God’s law, and in those cases is my response or resistance in keeping with Biblical teaching)?..and the most important question of all:
• Have I just lied about, mis-stated, justified, rationalized or otherwise been less than entirely honest about any of these issues?

That is our journey as sinful, fallen people in a sinful, fallen world – try to find out what God is like and be like that. Here’s to the Day.

I hope someone out there agrees or disagrees with something written here and posts a comment (hint, hint, whine, sniffle sniffle, guilting) .

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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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