Having "Spiritual Conversations"

You're at work, talking with a co-worker in the break room. It's someone you know a little, but not deeply. You know that this person is not a believer and there's a little distress in his life, but that's about all you know. And the conversation is about potato chips. You want to talk about something more important, and as a believer, you a bit apprehensively want to talk about spiritual matters. You're putting pressure on yourself to force the conversation, and you feel pressure from your church because they just talked about being an influence for Christ at work.

The pressure you feel reveals an underlying dichotomy between the secular and the sacred. We classify the conversation about potato chips to be secular (non-religious) and conversations about Christ to be sacred (holy, set apart). Secular conversations are "useless," and sacred conversations are the goal. And there's pressure to somehow manipulate the secular conversation to become sacred.

But what if this dichotomy is wrong? What if the pressure we feel is because we have a false dichotomy? What if we saw every conversation as sacred? Not that we fit Jesus into conversations about potato chips, but that we look at every conversation, even conversations about potato chips, as sacred opportunities. Why do we compartmentalize our lives in such as way that we actually consider any part of our lives as secular?

There is tremendous value in authentic conversations about Jesus - make no mistake. The Gospel is a message to be proclaimed. I'm not devaluing those conversations one bit, and we do desire to have those conversations. I'm not suggesting we look at those conversations any differently. I'm suggesting we look at the "secular" conversations very differently.

Instead of trying to artificially bridge the conversation from chips to Jesus ("Ruffles have ridges, and Jesus once stood on a ridge and looked down on the people...") and instead of trying to be cool in the conversation (say something funny about chips, say something funny about chips, ...), what if we saw a conversation that is stuck on potato chips as a sacred opportunity? It's an opportunity to pray for God to move in this person's heart in ways we never can that He would address issues we may never know about. It's a time to pray for God to create a "holy dissatisfaction" with this world so that this person begins to ponder greater things than chips. It's an occasion to ask God to cement an authentic relationship and to make his or her heart ready for an authentic conversation about Jesus.

In other words, refuse to categorize any conversation as secular - even those conversations that never move to eternal matters. Rather than feel guilty that you can't figure out how to force the conversation, thank God for a reason to make the moment holy by crying out to Him on this person's behalf.

And then be ready! God will move, change hearts, and open up real opportunities for authentic conversations about the matters of God. Not in every case, but in some. The opportunities He creates are always superior to the ones we create. But when He creates them, walk in! There's no place we'd rather be than in places God opens up for us.

My friend has cancer

My friend has cancer. It's not the worst kind. But neither is it "no big deal." It's a big deal. I've had friends who have had, or presently have, cancer. Some are now cancer free. Some succumbed to it. Almost everyone who reads this can say pretty much all that I've just said.

My friend told me about it through a message, but we haven't been able to meet face to face until recently. As I was driving to our lunch, I was praying for what to say, how to minister to him, how to help him. What I wanted to do, and what I was praying for, was to somehow be a rescuer, if even a little bit. I know I can't "fix" the problem or completely rescue him. But I wanted to be a junior rescuer in some way. Then I could feel better about my friend having cancer.

I also have cancer - cancer of the ego.

My friend doesn't need me to be his rescuer. He doesn't need me to somehow feel a little better about the situation. He doesn't need me to feel helpful. He doesn't need me to have the answers, to say the right thing, to have the right comforting words, or to make him smile. All of those things might be helpful (maybe!), but it's not what he needs.

What he needs is Jesus to be Jesus in every way. Whether he makes a full recovery or struggles with this for a while, or even (against the odds in this case) succumb to this, he doesn't need me to be or do anything rescue-y. He needs Jesus. And in this particular case, he has Jesus, and in a very strong way.

If he needs anything at all from me, it's brotherly love. Agape love, no matter what, in every circumstance, with or without the right words, with or without helping, with or without making anything better or easier, with or without me being comfortable. He needs Jesus' love, and in part, he needs it through me.

"Just love" sounds unhelpful, even weak. It is weak - I can't make it all better. But it's infinitely helpful.

Your friends don't have to have cancer to need Jesus' love through you.

There goes another one...

In our recent sermon on Colossians 3:3-4, we told the story of the imago Dei (the "image of God"). The quick run of the history is: the image was created Unspoiled, then it was Spoiled (but not destroyed) by sin, and therefore was Incapacitated to unspoil itself. Then in Christ, the perfect image was Incarnated, and then it was Hidden in the "new man" of all who believe, and it will be Revealed in them in perfect glory with Christ's return.

In the research that Jimmy Larkin has been doing in "lifestyle discipleship," he has been impressed by a number of writings that describe discipleship as the process of restoring that image within us, allowing more and more of that hidden image to be revealed now. The Complete Disciple by Ronald Habermas is entirely about this idea.

In a conference I attended last weekend about the church contributing to the Common Good in Kansas City, keynoted by Andy Crouch (http://www.culture-making.com/about/andy_crouch/), the image of God was a fundamental theme throughout the conference. Bearing God's image includes the God-reflecting activities creating and cultivating through our ministries, our work, and even the arts. The image of God is also what gives others value, making them worthy of our attention to invest in them, no matter what their station in life may be. We contribute to the Common Good by helping to restore that image in others.

Throughout the years, I've pondered the impact of being created in the imago Dei. It's what distinguishes us from the other living members of creation. It gives us a unique relationship with the Creator. It is something that everyone has, no matter what they do or what they believe. As rich as these explorations have been, I've never felt like that I've even come close to plumbing the depths of this incredible reality. But lately, I have been surrounded by people talking about it.

As we go forward with making discipleship an increasing part of the rhythm of Grace Fellowship's journey, we are going to explore the imago Dei more and more. I pray that we can discover new and significant truths about the image, truths that change our thinking, our ministry, our lives at home and at work, and our worship.

Everyone you talk to, meet, see, and buy groceries from bears the image of God. Every person you see, you can say, "There goes another one." And because it's God's image they bear, they are worthy of dignified respect, our love, and our attention.

Salmon Ladders

In Seattle, between the saltwater of Puget Sound and the fresh water of Lake Washington, are the Hiram M. Chittenden Locks (which locals call the "Ballard Locks"). Because the two bodies of water are at different levels, there is a series of locks between them for ships to pass through, and to keep salt and fresh waters in their places. However, this is also the path that salmon need to take in order to go upstream and spawn to thrive as a species. So, a "fish ladder" was constructed for the salmon to safely make the journey through the locks (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hiram_M._Chittenden_Locks#Fish_ladder). For the fish ladder to work for salmon, the flow of water has to be rapid. The strength of the flow plus the smell of the fresh water it carries attract to the salmon to make their way up the ladder.


The engineers had to make the steps of the ladder just the right height - too shallow and flow is not rapid enough. Too steep, and the fish can't make the leap from step to step. It has to be just the right height. The result is that it's a hard leap to get from one level to the next. Through the observation window below the water level, you can watch the fish and see that they often have to rest up before making the next step. It takes several failed attempts before they successfully get to the next level.


Although I'm having trouble verifying this claim, when we toured the locks, we were told that the fish ladder also needed to have the steps be this difficult because if the ladder was too easy, the salmon would not build up enough strength for the rest of the journey and for the spawning. So, in order for them to thrive, this journey has to be difficult, marked with many failures. (As as the salmon can sniff out the fresh water, you can probably sniff out where I'm going with this by now.)

Our lives are filled with difficult challenges, where it can feel like we're going against the flow of life. There are seemingly impossible levels to climb, and we sometimes fail many times before we're able to get past the challenge. As as soon as we do, wham! There's another challenge waiting for us, daring us to fail. But what the challenges are providing for us is strength conditioning for the rest of the journey. In fact, it's the only way we can thrive. If the journey was too easy, we wouldn't have the strength to finish it.

We are a fallen race. Our great struggles are the discipline for our rebellion. But, by grace, these challenges exist, because they strengthen us and purify us. James 1:2-4 says, Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

We often pray for life to be easier. But if God granted all those requests, He would be removing the very things that are designed to strengthen and purify us for our journeys. Rather than praying for an easier life, we should pray for a stronger, purer life. And then embrace challenges as God's answer to those prayers.

It's not that we invite difficulty. But if we really trust that God knows what He's doing, and that He's really in control, then we can trust what James tells us. God knows just the right height to make each of your challenges. May the fish ladders of your life make you strong and pure for the duration of the journey ahead of you.