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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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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If the economy continues to collapse in America, a lot of our mega-church and mega-ministry institutions will likely collapse with it – since they are built on the same principles (if you rely on donations to support your bloated, unwieldy organization, things will be getting tight for you very soon, I fear. Some TV preachers might have to sell their Bentleys). The measure of success for everyone in America - even those with a faith-centered worldview – is being severely tested, and will be even more so in the days to come. America is enduring much upheaval, precipitated mostly be events in our economic sector. You could argue that the foundation of our national stability has been our financial system, which seems to be rapidly morphing, maybe even collapsing. For many of us, the foundation of our personal lives is also our financial system, and the cornerstones of that foundation are the value of the house we own and live in and our source of income. And those are in jeopardy too. And things could get a lot worse. Maybe.

One of the things you learn in survival training is that the sooner you accept the traumatic event you have been faced with, the greater your chance of surviving it, especially if you have considered the possibility of it happening before it does (thinking the unthinkable). One author calls this ”hugging the monster.” Or as Steve Buscemi so succinctly put it in ”Armageddon” – “It’s time to embrace the horror!” 

So let’s hug the monster. Let’s ask the big question. What if it all collapses. What if we lose everything?

My parents are from a different generation than the parents of most of my contemporaries. While I grew up with the children of late Boomers (born after WWII), my dad was 40 when I was born, which means he was born in the mid 1930s, which places him squarely in the “Builder” generation. So I grew up hearing first-hand accounts of the latter part of the Great Depression (he was just a kid, but remembers it) and the World War II era. It’s amazing how bad things were – not just in folks’ personal budgets, but all around. We can all imagine not having enough money to buy a hamburger, but what if the stores had no hamburger to buy, even if you had the money. Just one example of a reality I’ve never had to consider that they dealt with all the time.

What you learn from those stories is that people are profoundly resilient, and that in times of great suffering the things that are really important – family, faith, community – become the focal point of our lives again. The simple answer is, if everything collapses, we will suffer greatly, but we will also find out matters most, cling to what is good, find a way to survive, and probably be better people because of it all. That’s what my parents’ generation did, and so will we.

Adversity breeds character. Unfettered prosperity often breeds complacency and corruption.

Now for what I really wanted to say (yep, that was just the intro). I was backing up a hard drive yesterday and saw a song I haven’t thought about in awhile. It’s a very short tune by Jason Upton, no more than a couple of minutes long, jammed in between epic 10 minute tunes on one of his albums. Its words are appropriate and haunting:

There’s a power in poverty that breaks principalities, brings the authorities down to their knees.
There’s a brewing frustration, an ageless temptation to fight for control by some manipulation.
But God of the kingdoms and God of the nations, the God of Creation sends this revelation,
Through the homeless and penniless Jesus the Son: ‘The poor will inherit the kingdom to come.’

Where will we turn when our world falls apart, and all of the treasures we’ve stored in our barns can’t buy the Kingdom of God?

And who will we praise, when we’ve praised all our lives men who build kingdoms and men who build things, but Heaven does not know their names?

And what will we fear when all that remains is God on the throne with a child in His arms, and love in His eyes…

And the sound of His heart cry.

Those words are true to the teachings of Scripture (email me if you need the chapter and verse), and they inform the rest of my thoughts. We have lived for most of my lifetime in relatively uninterrupted prosperity as a nation, with a few short exceptions. Unfortunately for my family, one of the worst economic periods since the Depression was the late 70s, and that’s when we were forced to sell our house (unemployment was high, interest rates were high, inflation was high, and my Dad left the Air Force in ’79, we lived in Montana - the perfect storm) and move our family of four into a 16×80 mobile home, where we lived from my first grade year on, and where my parents still live. We had very little, and sometimes we weren’t sure where the next meal was coming from, but by the time I graduated high school my Dad had gone back to college, entered a whole new career at the ripe young age of 50, and the folks had climbed just enough above the poverty line to keep me out of the running for the best government grants and assistance for college available to a lower income white kid. Except for the loans, of course. They’ll always saddle you with the loans…

Some people say today is like back then in the 70s. Some say it’s heading towards being like the 30s. I say it could be either. Or neither. No way to know for sure – and it’s really out of our hands. Whatever happens, we’ll have to hug the monster and make it through.

So in my life I’ve seen days of plenty and days of destitution. Both have their teaching moments. Sometimes I think it’s actually a lot harder to learn to live as a follower of Jesus when you are in a season of prosperity. Jesus seemed to think so. Thus His whole “rich man entering the Kingdom vs. camel going through the eye of the needle” metaphor. That’s not to say I want to go back to the “easy” way. I think I’d rather try getting my keister to thread that that needle…

But I am thinking a lot these days about the “homeless and penniless Jesus the Son,” who God sent to teach us how to live. By every standard we judge success – including those we use in Church-land, He was a spectacular failure. Which tells us that we are still measuring the wrong things. He did not own a home. He did not succeed in business. He did not overthrow the oppressive political regime of His day or effect even a small amount of political change during His lifetime. He didn’t even have enough money to pay taxes and his treasurer was embezzling what little there was (which makes Him a bad CEO – He allowed financial corruption at the highest level of His organization).

And He changed the world.

I’m not enjoying all the stories I am reading of churches and church organizations struggling to make ends meet and having to downsize, sell off, and shut down. But I’m not surprised. Our organizations and buildings and structures and soul-making machines have mirrored our society. When it begins to contract, fail, implode, and collapse, so will we. All my life we have worshipped large ministries (TV ones when I was a kid, mega-churches from college until today), great organizations, and larger-than-life public personas.

But whose names does Heaven know? It’s not always the winners we revere, but the “least of these” who act out faith, hope, love, mercy, and justice in Jesus’ name every day. I think we’re entering an era where the “bigger is better” mentality will be exposed for the hollow. self-congratulatory philosophy it is. Something new will emerge from the decimation of our man-made view of the Kingdom.

I don’t know what it will look like – large or small, buildings or rented spaces, underground or mainstream – and I’ve given up trying to guess. All I really want is to stop praising men and their kingdoms and go back to praising Jesus and studying His way of living. All I really want is to find my faith fully invested in the homeless Son of God, who taught us that children know more about these things than PhDs. All I want is to be known in Heaven, counted among the faithful, one of nameless mass of “others” Hebrews 11 says the world was not worthy of. All I want is a life that matters, not just to people on this planet, but to its Creator.

Whatever it takes to make that happen, I’m ready to hug that monster. Here’s hoping he’s not too slimy…

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