My Greatest Ignorances

I don't know what it's like to be an African American. I rarely have to "read" the room when I enter, I usually don't have to wonder whether someone is responding to me based on who I am or based on my skin color. I've never had some people telling me I'm "too black" and others telling me that I'm "not black enough." Even when I've been the minority in our neighborhood in LA and in Kenya, I so infrequently fall victim to racism that I can't say that I've had to endure it. So even though I can have an opinion about racism, it's only from theory, not from experience. Therefore, let me measure my words about racism humbly.

I don't know what it's like to be a Syrian refugee. I do know what it's like to see homelessness and I do know what it's like to worry about the worst that could happen. But I don't know what it's like to go through what they are going through. And to be fair, when we're talking about that many people, we cannot say anything that would be true of every single one of them. Therefore, let me exceed my fear with a greater measure of compassion.

I don't know what's it's like to have been deeply wounded by a church or a religious leader. And so I don't have any way to understand someone's anger and bitterness toward the church. I can't tell you much about what you "ought" to do next in your life until I know more about the story of your life. I can't expect you to understand my church context if your church context is one of wounding and mistrust. Therefore, let me listen and understand your pain rather than tell you what you ought to feel.

I don't know what it's like to be financially poor. Even when I was in college living on mac and cheese with hot dogs, I wasn't poor. I had parents who would catch me if I needed it. I had a job good enough to keep the lights on, so I never got in that downward cycle of paying even more just to get the lights turned back on. I have never worried if I would have enough groceries. I never had to ask "Gas or bread?" I have never known what material poverty does to one's self-identity. Therefore, let me be more concerned about someone's self-identity than their bank balance.

I don't know what it's like to be financially rich. I've imagined it. Of course, my imagination is always optimistic. I don't know what it's like for others to feel like I'm obligated to them because I have plenty. Not really. I don't know the struggle of knowing when a nice car is too nice. Not really. I'm not constantly told I must be greedy and uncaring to have so much. I don't have people trying to build a "friendship" with me because they just want to get a large donation from me. And I don't know when giving too much actually hurts a church from all members being sacrificial givers as they ought. Therefore, again, let me be more concerned about someone's self-identity than their bank balance.

I don't know what it's like to be a representative, a senator, or a president. I don't know what it's like to make thousands unhappy by making decisions based on information that can't be made public. I've heard personal stories from a former representative who was pressured hard by his own party to compromise his personal convictions in order to gain political advantage, but I've never lived that. I have only watched this grown man reduced to tears. I really don't know what it's like to always make half of your audience mad no matter what. Therefore, let me refuse to spend more energy tearing leaders down than helping them do good things.

I don't know what it's like come from a single-parent household. It took me a long time to understand why other kids liked hanging out at our house. I thought it was me! But mostly, it was that our house was stable, peaceful, and predictable - steady and a bit mundane. I never had my lone parent necessarily absent just to pay the rent. I never had to lay my head on different pillows every few nights, or worse, never lay my head down on a pillow under the same roof as one of my parents. I never had to want a marriage completely different than my folks' had. Therefore, let me add a little of what's lacking for those who need some days that are just steady and a bit mundane.

I don't know what it's like to be divorced. Lots of people do, but I can't identify with it. I don't know what it's like to be released from an abusive relationship, and I don't know what it's like to have bad go to worse because reconciliation was unattainable. I don't know what it's like to divide time with children and struggle financially trying to pay for two households. I've never had most everything in my life defined by divorce. Therefore, let me be at least one thing in someone's life that isn't defined by divorce.

I don't know what it's like to be you. I never will. All the good, all the bad - I'll never know. And so, I'll never really know how my words, my actions, and even the looks on my face affect you. I won't ever know how your history will filter my intentions. There are times that I so very much want to tell you what to do and why, and sometimes, I even have the right answer. But I will invariably be astonished when you don't react as I would. Therefore, may I always help you be a better you and never expect you to be a better me.

Yeah, it's just a game ... however ...

How many hours did you spend on Royals baseball this year? How much money? Some of you, not so much. Others, a fair amount. I'm not being critical - I, too, spent quite a few hours and no small sum, and lately, quite a few antacids. Now, think about all the really serious Royals fans who spent far more time and money than you, and then add them all up. Then add in all the baseball fans for all these teams in the country. Then add in all the fans for all the professional sports. How many hours spent? How many billions of dollars spent? And that's just for one calendar year - how much over the last 30 years totaled together?* (Let's not even try to calculate in the world's fanbase for soccer.)

Why? Why have we as a society dedicated so much time and money for sports that we watch other people play? For a feeling! Most of us don't walk away from a game much richer. We don't get the trophies (instead, we spend even more money on t-shirts as our "trophies"). We don't get traded to better teams (as if there were any!). We do all this for a feeling. Or rather, for a set of feelings. We spend hours upon hours and buckets of money in order to feel something. I find that amazing! It's just a game, right? But I don't think it's necessarily bad.

First, it's a seven-month drama, and in this case, a drama with happy ending. There's a storyline with lots of different characters. There's conflict, not only in every game, but early in the season, with pitchers from other teams beaning our players, real conflict. Gordon gets injured and is out for a month and a half - will the team still be successful? Holland has to have arm surgery - will Davis be as good in the role of closer? We're six outs away from being eliminated in Houston - will we make it to the next round?

Then we have the life lesson of overcoming obstacles to achieve a goal. The 2015 season, especially on the heartbreak of being so close last year, is a great testament to enduring through obstacles, marching ever forward to a single goal. Management made some brilliant additions to the team in the offseason as well as midseason, each of them proving to be important for overcoming challenges that came our way.

Of course, there's a great lesson on teamwork, the various parts contributing the whole, all for a goal greater than any individual. Christian Colon gets one at bat in the World Series, and drives in the World Series winning run on a two-strike pitch. Terrance Gore, whose only job is to run fast, plays in only eight regular season games and only one postseason game, but changes the dynamic. Salvador Perez, the series MVP, didn't even get to catch the final outs, because he yielded to the speedier Dyson on the basepath. In fact, deciding an MVP was difficult because of the tremendous level of teamwork.

Plus, we know these guys (or we feel like we do). We get to know the players a little bit, their stories, their families. We celebrate because people we like were playing the game. Three players suffered the death of a parent, and we felt a little slice of those family stories. We await the imminent birth of Ben Zobrist's next child. We wait to see who Salvy will douse with water or how he will next embarrass Lorenzo Cain by posting another secret video.

One of the greatest effects was the sense of community around the city. We experienced community with people we might often disagree with on other issues: politics, how to solve racial tension, gender issues. People in the neighborhood, at work, in the store, and at the ballpark - we shared a sense of community with one another, high-fiving people we don't even know.

Sure, it's just a game. But because of this game, and especially this season, we got to feel something - we felt what we ought to feel about what truly is important. Life is a drama, and people have stories that matter. Facing and overcoming obstacles is long, hard work, but we need examples on how to do it. Through teamwork, we not only get more done, but we become better people. Getting to know who we work with is how our work becomes more than a job. And in the digital age, building community has to be more intentional than ever - baseball gave us a reminder we shouldn't be so angry with one another. All of these things that we spent so much time and money to feel through baseball are experiences we should also feel in our daily lives.

For followers of Christ, there's another lesson. Because of sports, for a moment, we are reminded how our journey in Christ will end - one day, there will be a postseason, filled with epic contests. And then after that, we are assured of victory, with a fantastic celebration. Because we know this is what the rest of this season holds for us, we can live now during the "regular season," confidently embracing the drama, striving together with teamwork to overcome obstacles, getting to truly know each other along the way in genuine community.

We should feel all those things in life. Baseball reminds us to. So, yeah, it's worth a little time and money.

* - Yes, I picked 30 years on purpose. :)

Brain Again

I wrote about the brain a couple of weeks ago. I reported a comparison between the brain scan of a child who had endured trauma and the brain scan of a child the same age who had not (what we cautiously labeled "normal"). We noted the physical changes that occur from trauma, which lead to incapacities to behave well consistently or even to receive correction normally. Then I spent time noting that even a "normal" brain is fallen, and physically incapable of right behavior or rightly responding to correction all the time. I'd like to ponder a little further on these ideas.

Our baseline is this - a brain that has been significantly damaged in some way is more clearly obvious in its diminished capacity, but a "normal" brain is also fallen and therefore physically incapable of perfectly generating right responses. This is our working assumption. Both are fallen and physically dysfunctional to some degree, but one may be more obvious than the other (or frustratingly less obvious!).

This working assumption also applies to self identity. My self identity is who I see myself to be. Perhaps I see myself as a lowlife. Perhaps I see myself as God's gift to Johnson Country. Perhaps I see myself as unlovable, unforgivable, slow-minded, awfully clever, dashing, hilarious, or socially invisible. Obviously, an accurate self identity is more healthy than an inaccurate one. A significantly inaccurate self identity leads to any number of problems: emotional, social, theological, and so on.

The brain has much to do with one's self-identity. Given our working assumption that all are "brain damaged" but some are more obvious, we are physically incapable of perfectly healthy senses of self identity. We don't have the physical capacity to be exactly correct in how we understand ourselves. And with self identities that are inaccurate to some degree, we are then prone to the problems that come from those inaccurate self identities.

Furthermore, given our fallenness (and our subsequent "brain damage"), part of our self identity can become that we're hopelessly brain damaged, spoiled goods incapable of anything worthwhile. A vicious cycle! We can begin to define ourselves by this incapacitation, accept a label as our identity, and therefore doubt we can ever grow significantly.

Related to this is that our fallen brains are damaged in their role in our beliefs. The brain is involved in what we believe and how we believe it (although not solely responsible for beliefs), and a physically damaged brain, obvious or not, contributes to wrong beliefs.

And yet it is our very beliefs, imperfect as they are, that illumine our path away from these incapacities. The Gospel says that in Christ, I have been made perfect before God. Jesus provides us with His perfection, which means that in Christ, our damaged brains are counted as perfect before God. The resulting errant behaviors, reactions, self identities, and beliefs are counted as perfect before God, too.

Even though we can't believe perfectly, this is a truth that we can believe. It's true whether or not we believe it well, but it is a truth we can believe. We can grab onto it and run with it. Our salvation doesn't depend on how well we can believe this, but we can believe it. And when we believe it, our self identity now becomes something like, I am a child of God who is credited in Christ as if I had a perfect brain which makes perfect decisions. That's a pretty good self identity! Not that we always do make perfect decisions, but that this dysfunction is not my identity. My identity is in Christ, declared perfect and empowered by the Holy Spirit, to one day be gifted with a new, glorified, unfallen brain.

This is one reason why I believe that those with severe brain damage are no less "capable" of salvation. Salvation is not the product of an adequately functioning brain, lest none of us be saved. The perfection of Christ's brain function is adequate for all who, in whatever capacity God has allowed, trust in His Son. I dare say many who suffer damage to the brain can frequently demonstrate a far greater trust than I can. 

The sufficiency of Christ is not limited by our incapacities, whether they are obvious or not. Therefore, our identities need not be anything less than "perfected in Christ no matter what."

Out of Context

"You took my comment out of context!" During any political season, we're sure to hear this excuse for something a candidate said that the opposing party made a big deal about. Most often, it seems, both sides have a point - the candidate did say something offensive, stupid, or inaccurate, and the opposing party did take the comment out of context to make it sound far worse than it actually was. One of the few things they agree on is that the fair thing to do is to take someone's comments within the context they were spoken, and then take whatever issue with it as you please (even though they rarely do so).

We have the same expectation of literature, research, and statistics. Most of us have had homework marked wrong because we quoted something out of context to better fit our point. Statistics are perhaps the easiest to take out of context, according to 3 out of 7 scientists. ;-) One thing that drives me crazy are internet posts that take some factoid out of context to make a point the statistics never did support - I don't care if I agree or disagree with your conclusion, I'm going to call you on it when I see it. It's a form of lying.

For those who study religious texts, we are particularly sensitive to context for quoting. We grieve over "teachers" who rip a verse out of Scripture to make the most unscriptural points ("I can do all things...", "If my people pray...", "Increase my borders..."). Most common, however, is taking a passage out of context to make a perfectly Scriptural point - Scripture does say that, but not in that passage you just quoted. Responsible teachers intentionally consider the contexts: literary, historical, and cultural.

We critique people who take things out of context, and we should. However, there's another contextual concern that we too often ignore. We are far too quick to take people out of context.

At a store, we see a child yell at his mother, neither of whom we know anything about, and then we draw all kinds of conclusions about the child ("how disrespectful!") and the parent ("if she'd practice discipline at home..."). We cry out when someone uses statistics out of context to draw conclusions, and yet we so easily take people out of context to draw all kinds of conclusions. What is the child's story? Does he have an emotional disorder or disease? Did he just lose his father? Is he just an obnoxious brat? What's the parent's story? Is that the child's parent at all? Has she already tried everything and is near her wit's end? Is she an addict and only hears people when they yell?

I'm not at all suggesting that everyone is innocent and we just need to understand them. Sometimes, they're in the wrong. But if we take them out of context, then we're also in the wrong for doing so. We simply cannot take someone out of context and pretend to know what their problem is or what they need. Doing so is a form of lying.

Like statistics, we must understand the context before we understand what we've seen. And for people, that most often means patient listening (or else butting out!). As any teacher would do, we need to do the "research" about the context before we dare suggest we understand the person, let alone be so bold as to conclude what they ought to do.

Use the same discipline - refuse to claim anything about the statistic, or the person, until you've understood the context it comes out of. And if you cannot determine the context, refuse to make any strong assessment at all (otherwise called "being judgmental"). If we can't do this for simple numbers, we cannot do this for complex people with complex histories and varied contexts.

Don't we wish that's what others would do unto us?

"Normal" Doesn't Mean "Correct"

Last week, I attended GRID KC, a conference on the various needs related to foster care of children. Fifty blog entries on what I learned would not suffice, and I still have much to work through. There is one point, that got my head spinning in a couple of directions.

The speaker showed brain scans of two four year olds, one who had endured severe emotional trauma and the other "normal." Emotional trauma can modify brain function in a way that is measurable by a machine! The dysfunction of the brain, by no fault of the child, hampers the child from behaving well, handling stress, and being disciplined.

When a "normal" child misbehaves and we correct or discipline her, she tends to respond with better behavior. When a child with trauma-induced brain dysfunction misbehaves, it may not be within her control to manage her behavior appropriately. Furthermore, the same correction and discipline that worked with the "normal" child may not have any chance at all to work with this child. Simply put, the child may not have the physiological mechanisms to respond appropriately to "normal" discipline. But we typically see this child as "rebellious." Mercifully, some of the brain dysfunction can be reparable.

The hampered brain has been damaged by the Fall of man. Our sin. The child was born with a fallen body (and brain), but the sins of others have caused even more damage so that the child may not be able to behave or be corrected in a healthy way.

The implications in the fostering world are obvious, since almost every child in foster care is there because of trauma. It also has implications in schools and churches, although we don't always know when a child has endured severe trauma in order to react in more productive ways. But as much as this topic deserves space, I want to focus on "normal."

The "normal" brain can respond more "normally." That's not in question. However, the "normal" brain is also damaged by the Fall. So, even a "normal" brain is incapable of consistently behaving rightly, or more to the point, behaving righteously. Furthermore, even a "normal" brain cannot always be corrected or disciplined. We are physically incapable of behaving perfectly or being corrected perfectly merely by appealing to the brain. No amount of counsel, advice, rules, or threats of consequences can make these brains work righteously all the time.

And yet, like the more obvious example of fruitlessly trying to discipline a trauma-damaged brain through "normal" correction, relying solely on discipline for any brain is not reliable. But it's what we rely on almost exclusively. And then we judge one another for not behaving or not responding to correction.

This is not to say we aren't culpable. It's to say we're not always capable. We need new, glorified bodies with new, glorified brains to behave righteously on our own. The Gospel offers us that through the coming resurrection. But before then, we need God's power in order to behave better than our brains are able and to respond to discipline better than our brains are able. The Gospel offers us that, too, through the indwelling Holy Spirit for all who believe.

So, let's continue to encourage, correct, and discipline one another, but with the knowledge that we are limited in our ability for this to work. Don't expect what physiologically can't work all the time to work all the time. But let's also lean on, pray for, and encourage the work of the Holy Spirit in one another to continue to do what we simply cannot do. Let us afford the grace to one another that we are all brain-damaged by the trauma of the Fall, and are being transformed and renewed by Christ. That is the Gospel.

Whadya Remember?

Last week, Lynne and I enjoyed a nice, simple vacation. I was asked to officiate a wedding in Columbus, GA, for a young man who grew up in the church we served from 2003 to 2010. So, we made a whole week of it - first to the Chattanooga area to spend a day with dear friends, then to Dublin, GA, where we used to live, and then on to Columbus. Two thousand miles of mountains, rivers, lakes, evergreens, kudzu, and friends.

Those who were in the youth group when we were there are now ... adults. And it's wonderful. Watching personalities emerge and define, now finding their more mature expression, with clearer heads and more significant priorities. Kids that we had bi-polar relationships with - from thoroughly enjoying to angry corrections - now more than able to relate as adults.

We also got to catch up with so many of our friends, some in their homes, some at a party, and others still at the wedding. People that we broke bread with, stayed up all night in the hospital with, went fishing with (and the subsequent fish fry), hunted with, and learned the Word with. We walked through weddings, baptisms, births, divorces, illness, death, and daily life with some very dear people.

One special visit was to the home of an older couple, James and Mary. James is quite ill and under hospice care. In the weeks leading up to our trip, there was real concern that he wouldn't still be with us by time we arrived. He was, looking frail and surviving on oxygen, but joyful. They spoke about God's goodness and how much they appreciated seeing us again. James said our visit was his best birthday present, which tells you far more about them than us. Lynne understandably left several tears there.

During all these visits, there was lots of reminiscing. Many great memories, lots of "remember that time when...?" We caught up on recent events, but we also enjoyed recalling the times we spent together, the good and the bad. Like the time we unintentionally scared the youngest kids during VBS with a life-size lion costume, turning Aslan into a scary character for some traumatized kiddos. But there was one kind of recall that never occurred, not even once. Not one person said, "Remember that one sermon where you said..."

No one talked about a single sermon - supposedly the thing I was primarily employed to do for that church. Those weren't the memories that bubbled to the top. What we did talk about was the time we spent together, both individually and as groups. That's what we hang onto most. As important as sermons and lessons and meetings are to the life of the church, the greatest impact we have on one another is not flawlessly running our programs, but twisting our busy lives into one another. That is more church than great praise songs and a moving sermon.

What you, Lynne, and I will remember together will not be how well we did church, but how well we were church. Let's continue to twist our busy lives into one another so that one day we will say, "Remember that time when ..." and it not be about what I'm employed to do.

The Gospel of Expectations

Try an experiment. Run your car completely out of gas - absolutely empty tank. Then yell at your car to "Go!" Kick it if it doesn't suddenly start going. Criticize it for not going, for misbehaving, for not acting like a car. Create a snarky meme for your car's uncarlike behavior and post it on Facebook. Complain that there are too many cars out there that don't go. "Back in my day, cars knew how to go!" Keep your kids away from this car, lest they get any ideas about becoming lazy. Blame the government, print a cleverly insulting t-shirt that makes you feel superior to the car, and tell the car that if it can get itself up and take itself to a gas station and pay for the gas itself, then it will all be OK.

So, how did that work out for you? It's ridiculous! It's kind of like Pharaoh forcing the Hebrew slaves to make brick without providing them with straw.

Now self-examine ... do you do the same thing with unbelievers by expecting them to live like believers, even though they don't have the power of the Holy Spirit within them? Do you expect "saved behavior" from unsaved people? Do you criticize the unsaved for living unsaved, for not acting like a Christ-follower? Do you keep your kids away, blame the system, post insults, or wear t-shirts that make you feel superior? Do you tell the unsaved to get themselves up and come to your church and fill themselves up, and then it will all be OK? It's just as ridiculous as yelling at a car without gas for not going anywhere!

Don't be surprised that unsaved people act unsaved. Don't be shocked, bewildered, overwhelmed, or disappointed. Don't judge ... no matter what. Of course unsaved people live like unsaved people. The only people who deserve criticism are the saved people who lived as if they are unsaved. It is Jesus who transforms us and the Holy Spirit who changes how we live, not us. Therefore, to criticize an unsaved person for living like an unsaved person is to tell them that the Gospel is about cleaning up your own act. That brings as much hope as telling a car to fill itself up or telling slaves to make bricks without straw.

Don't lie about the Gospel by wagging your finger at the unsaved. Don't in any way suggest Jesus came so that they could fix their own lives and live like Christ without new birth or the indwelling Holy Spirit. Don't criticize the prostitute or the drug addict for not having enough character to remain pure and clean. Save your criticism for those Jesus criticized - the finger-wagging hypocrites. The sinner's sin is still sin ... it's no less sin, and it's fair to call it "sin." But that's what sinners do, so don't act so surprised or offended.

And now we have freedom! Once we shed ourselves from the Gospel of Fix-yourselves-up, now it is safe to listen to and love people before they live like Jesus. We have the Gospel of Jesus-transforms-us.

By the way, we don't fully live like Jesus, either.