I'd like to tell you something, but it isn't clean

In the Old Testament Law for the Israelites, God gave Moses some pretty crazy food restrictions. It's OK to eat land animals that have split hooves and chew cud, but not camels (because the hoof is not completely split) or the pig (because it doesn't chew cud). It's OK to eat fish with fins and scales, but not if they have only one or neither. And don't eat skinks. (I don't want to eat skinks, but now that you tell me that I can't, I'm tempted to.) Don't eat certain animals because they are considered "unclean," even though their cleanliness habits are not really different than other animals.

Also, houses with mold - unclean. People with leprosy - unclean. Dead bodies - unclean. Touch any of those, and you become unclean, too.

Anything that was "unclean" was not necessarily morally "bad." Some of the laws about being clean have to do with everyday, unavoidable necessities of life. Rather than evil, "unclean" means "unacceptable," particularly with relationship to the rituals of the tabernacle (and later, the temple). Nothing unclean could be used for the ceremonies and sacrifices. Anyone who touched something unclean became unclean, and then he couldn't be involved with the ceremonies until he went through a cleansing ritual. Once clean, then he was "acceptable" and could participate. The correct terms here are "ceremonially clean" and "ceremonially unclean."

So, why the weird restrictions? Why do rock badgers get a bad rap, for example? The best theory I've read so far is that the "unclean" things are "abnormal." The normal house has no mold ("normal" meaning "as it should be" instead of "more common"). Animals that both chew the cud and split the hoof are "normal," but those that have the odd combination are "abnormal." Fish "normally" have fins and scales. Bodies "ought" to be alive - that's their normal state, what they were made to be.

There's nothing magic about clean or unclean animals. Clean animals aren't "better," necessarily. The laws were primarily for the purpose of revealing God and His character. So, everything associated with the tabernacle must be a prime example of its kind - "normal" (as it should be), unblemished, highest quality, unspoiled, and so on. And it must be so because of what that teaches us about God. If less than the best was acceptable in the worship of God, then what would that teach us about God?

So, now look at sin from a new perspective. Sin is not just "bad" because it falls into the bad category that God arbitrarily set. Sin is any departure from the perfect character of God or from God's perfect design - "abnormal." Sin is abnormal (even though it's very common). Therefore, sin makes us abnormal or "unclean," and therefore "unacceptable" for the worship of God. Not because we're just "bad," but because abnormal is unfitting for worshiping the perfect God. We are "unclean," not because we're "dirty," but because we depart from God's ideal. We need to be made "clean" - made "normal" again. Then and only then are we "acceptable," fitting for the worship of God.

This new look at sin gives us a new look at the work of Christ. He alone makes us "clean," "acceptable," fitting for worshiping God. He "normalizes" us to the perfect character and design of God, because He fulfills the perfect design of God for our race.

We receive this by faith. Even though we don't suddenly become actually normal, we are then covered by the "normalcy" of Christ until He finishes the work of making us actually normal. That work continues in every believer until He completes it.

How to respond to this truth? Rather than setting our sights on being meritoriously "good," it is more accurate to pursue becoming more and more fitting for the worship of God. In other words, rather than me trying to be the most moral me, my focus would be taken off of me and onto the God worthy of worship. My goal would be to become more and more suited to worship Him. I get to worship Him now by the grace of Christ, but my pursuit is to be increasingly appropriate for that privilege.

This kind of transformation is a work of Christ within us that we embrace by faith. He will eventually complete that transformation. Until then, my habits and actions will either be in concert with His work or contrary to it. May my eyes be fixed on what a holy God is worthy of, rather than trying to feel worthy within myself.

When I'm 80...

When I'm 80...

• I want to still have Lynne next to me. She's my living reminder that it's more important to be than to do - that doing comes from being.
• I want to be healthy enough to get myself to a good BBQ restaurant. That would mean I can still chew and digest great food, that I'm capable of driving, that I can still celebrate the simple good things in life, that I'm still in the city I love, and that I still have a little money to spend.
• I want to be generous enough to be contagious. I'll know I'm really generous not if someone else tells me, but if someone else becomes more generous because they appreciate generosity's beauty.
• I want to have no relational debts. I'll be in the last chapter, and I don't want to live knowing that any day could mean unresolved relationships. I don't want to have to make peace on my deathbed; I want to already have peace on my deathbed.
• I want all my scars to tell stories with good endings. I have scars, and I will have more. Physical scars, emotional scars, relational scars. Scars are the stories of wounds - hopefully healed ones. Since they are inevitable, I want every story to have a good ending. They may not all be "happy endings," but I want them to at least be good endings. I don't want to waste any scars.
• I want it to be hard to remember the last time I was a jerk to anyone - and not because of a faulty memory. I'm still a jerk way too often. I'd rather not be, but there it is for now. I would like to grow up enough that I'd have to think wayyyy back to remember the last time it was true.
• I want the peace that surpasses all understanding ruling my heart. I don't want my name on a building or enough money to buy that BBQ restaurant. I don't want more interesting photos on social media than the rest of you. I don't want any substitute for peace ... I just want peace. A peace so contrary to a broken world that it makes no sense. A peace so invasive that it's in charge of my heart.
• I want be truly influencing others to follow Christ. Not a religion, not an approved list of behaviors, but a Person who lives still.
• I want to still be able to make painful puns. I want my mind sharp enough to still play with words like toys. Of course, this may contradict the whole "jerk" thing...
• I don't want to complete my bucket list. I don't want to dream that small.

Criminy! I now have only 30 years to become that man.

With deep grief I have watched the events surrounding the Ferguson, MO, case and the Eric Garner case. I grieve over the loss of life, regardless of circumstance. I grieve over those who responded with violence, regardless of reason. I grieve over the angry divisiveness, heartlessness, and bitter words exchanged in the streets and online. I grieve that, no matter how you look at these stories, race is still an open-wound issue in our time.

I'm not going to tell you who I think is right or wrong, and I won't tell you who you should think is right or wrong, because that would reduce what you should think down to a single idea. The issues are complex, and I would hope that every one of us has a complex, even conflicting set of thoughts about them.

In all this, I have observed that people responded to the same set of facts based on how they were already bent. In other words, if I knew your socio-political leanings before these events occurred, I could have quite accurately predicted your responses to them. The facts of the case are the facts of the case, but how people responded to those facts was overwhelmingly conditioned by what they already believed before the facts were presented.

In other words, the facts matter less than our preconceived narratives. We all have agendas - things we want to happen, ways we want to be followed, structures we want in place. We have a narrative in our minds of how things have been and ought to be. Sadly, the real lives of the real people involved in real events are merely props to affirm the narratives in our minds. We're using them ... and their tragedies ... to affirm what we already believe. It doesn't matter which side of these issues people are on; I observe the same phenomenon in both directions.

Facts should change us, not vice versa. But we're letting it happen. How else could our differing responses be so easily predictable before the facts even came to light? The facts could have been different, but our respective conclusions would have been the same! And we're pretty angry about these "facts" - even though they don't really matter.

It's not just these two events. The same thing happens daily with politics, religion, international relations, and of course sports. It's not just them who do this; it's us. No sense in pointing fingers - both sides of every issue are filled with rhetoric that could be scripted without looking at a single fact.

Jesus once said that even if a man rose from the dead and warned people, they wouldn't listen. Facts don't matter - they just get repurposed. Therefore, the facts of your life don't matter, either, because my narrative is already set. I'll twist your story to fit my narrative, so you don't really matter.

The only way I can be different than this is to allow people to mess up my narrative.

When I was a young kid, we didn't have any pets. Somehow, I had it in my mind that dogs and cats were the same animal, but that dogs were the boys and cats were the girls. (To save my own life, I will not explain how that conclusion actually makes made some sense.) Our neighbors had a cat and a dog ... but the cat was male and the dog was female! That totally messed up my young narrative! I fought it, but eventually I allowed reality to change my narrative. The only way I could retain my narrative would have been to slander the reputations those two animals. (Sound familiar?)

Allowing your narrative to be changed doesn't mean you have to put your core beliefs on the chopping block. Whatever core beliefs are true need not change, even when the narratives must. Even though I have discovered halfway decent people who graduated from KU, I don't have to abandon my core belief in the absolute superiority of Mizzou. They changed my narrative, but not my core belief!

This is especially crucial when we consider our kids, who encounter narrative-busting people every day. If our narrative fails to accommodate the variety of lifestories they eat lunch with and study algebra together with, they will abandon the narrative - they will not abandon the busters. And if they abandon the narrative, they are far more likely to abandon the core beliefs you want to pass on.

I Don't Want You to Know Me

I don't want you to know me. Not the real me. In fact, I work really hard so that you won't know me, and indeed so that you can't know me.

If you knew me, you'd know my faults, fears, and failures. I mess things up, I have selfish tendencies, I'm not up to snuff in some basic character issues, I get angry, I don't always eat right, and I say stupid things. It's embarrassing. "Aha!" you say - "I already know plenty of your faults." Yes, you do. You know the faults that I don't keep totally secret. You don't know my worst, ugliest, most disappointing, shameful faults. I don't let you. They are part of me, and since I have successfully hidden them from you, I have successfully prevented you from knowing me.

If you knew these things about me, you probably wouldn't like me. The faults I let you know about may be annoying, but they usually don't prevent people from liking who they think I am. But the faults I hide - wow - if you knew them, then you wouldn't like me. Or at least not nearly as much. People with my secrets aren't really likable ... not really.

Instead, I tell you just enough to fool you. I actually want you to know my lesser faults, because then I can fool you that I'm being "transparent." I'll let you know about my molehill problem so that you won't bother to ask about my mountain problem. I give you a splinter to distract you from the plank. To be honest, you're pretty easy to fool.

In other words, what I present to you is a false me. It's a projection of a person, an image of someone who doesn't exist, a catalog of qualities good enough to make a phantom likable. Who you think I am isn't even a person. You can't have a real relationship with an unreal person, so you don't have a real relationship with me, no matter how often I tell you I appreciate our "relationship."

You see, I'd rather you knew a false me than the real me. I'd prefer that you like a false me than be disappointed with the real me. I don't want to be rejected, so I don't allow the real me to be accepted. I can coast along pretty well if you like the person I project to you, and then I can pretend that you really like me. But you don't ... because you don't even know me.

I do this because I falsely get my identity and acceptance from you. I know intellectually that my identity is in Christ and my acceptance from God by grace through Christ. I know all that. And yet I still vainly try to get my sense of self from you. If I truly did get my identity from being in Christ, and if I truly did accept my own acceptance by grace from the perfectly gracious God, then I would let you know the real me ... the accepted me who knows who he is. But I don't. Instead, I put on you responsibilities that belong only to God.

I don't want you to know me because you're my idol. I don't idolize you in the worship-y way, but I look to you for something only God can give. Thereby, I foolishly make you my idol.

I'm sorry for putting you in such an awkward position. It's unfair to expect you to provide what only God can. Plus, it never works. I can't be known by idols.

Read this again to see if you find yourself in this composite (but not totally fictional) character.

I Don't Have Time for This!

This Sunday is the last in our series on how Jesus redefines everything in our lives as disciples, pulling our thoughts mostly out of 1 and 2 Corinthians. To review, this is where we've been:

1. I am a Disciple (the "tree") 
2. I am on Mission (the "fruit") 
3. I am Being Transformed (the "roots")
4. I Worship the Risen Christ (the "trunk")
5. I Belong to a Community (the "branches") 
6. I am a Disciple who Makes Disciples (but what kind?) 
7. I am Missionary (learning to think like a missionary right here)
8. I am a Consumer (we can become consumers of church, rather than disciples)
9. I have a Vocation (our 3 callings)

This Sunday's message will be "I don't have time for this!" from 1 Cor 9:19-27.

And we don't really have time for all this ... do we??? I simply can't add all those things to my life, because I'm already hovering around the "overwhelmed" status. Quite frankly, I just end up feeling guilty about all this, which is worse than before.

We must be honest enough to admit whatever feelings like this we have, and we must be brave enough to explore those questions.

I'm not going to explore here what we're going to explore Sunday morning, but I did want to create a simple list of the series so we can see the big picture of where we've been. I also wanted to put the question about time in your mind in advance to get you thinking about it so that we gather together with fresh, real questions and ideas.

Let me prime the pump with the following:

• Does God ever give us too little time for what He desires for us?
• Are we foisting our idea of "time" onto God's plan? If so, how?
• What are we not fully believing that then leads us to think we don't have enough time?
• Are there things I'm not yet willing to give up in order to live life "on mission" according to a list like this? If so, how should I respond?