I'm not asking you to leave your comfort zone

"Leaving your comfort zone" is a social virtue. Regardless of context (at home, at work, in your community of faith, in a social or hobby club), kudos abound for those who leave their comfort zone. Leaders often ask their groups to step out of their comfort zones in order to try something new and, perhaps, enjoy some kind of new benefit. When we do, then we high five each other and give attaboys. And then we return to our comfort zones.

A "comfort zone" is commonly described as that sphere that surrounds you - within that sphere is comfort, and outside that sphere is some level of discomfort, whether slight or severe or something in between. We, being creatures who gravitate toward comfort, spend a lot of time inside that sphere or "zone," and the common wisdom is that it's a good thing to leave that comfort zone on occasion. And then return.

I have been bugged by the concept of "comfort zone" on the simple basis that comfort should not be our primary ethic. Comfort should not be that controlling value by which most decisions are made. With this mindset, leaving our comfort zone can become something "heroic" in our own eyes because we dared to challenge this primary ethic. I tried sushi - how daring and brave!

So, I began to talk in terms of "expanding your comfort zone" instead of leaving it (and then returning). Wouldn't it be better if we just expanded that sphere so that we were more comfortable with more things (without compromising morals)? Going to a foreign country to help in an orphanage then is not the brave "leaving your comfort zone" but the humble "expanding your comfort zone." Rather than enduring uncomfortable things more often, we are more comfortable with more things. We actually grow - increasing the number of things we're comfortable doing and encountering is a kind of growth.

But that still didn't answer the issue in a satisfactory way for me.

Lately, I've been toying with the idea that it's not really a "comfort zone" at all. It's a "control zone." It's the sphere inside which I feel like I have enough control, and outside which I feel like I don't have enough control. The sense of "comfort," then, is a byproduct of how much control I feel. If this is the right view, then my primary ethic is not my arbitrary level of comfort, but a question of who's in charge.

If God is truly God, He is then truly sovereign, perfectly loving, and completely purposeful. Everything is within His "control zone." And if I am truly His child, then the sphere of my control is entirely subsumed by His. Now, leaving my control zone is to enter His. It is not this brave, temporary venture beyond my level of comfort, but a matter of trust. If I do not trust God to know what He's doing, I will not leave my control zone. If I do trust that His sovereign involvement is actual and not just theoretical, I can leave my control zone and enter into His.

As we talk about living more missional lives, I'm not asking you to leave your comfort zone. I'm asking you to leave your control zone. And to enter His.

I've Seen Scared Men

I've seen a man scared to die. I've looked in his eyes as they darted from my eyes to the ground to the ceiling, and then to some faraway, unreachable thought. I've heard the tremor in his voice as he used manly words to describe weakness and fear. He doesn't believe the rationalizations he speaks as he grasps for phantom answers. The clock didn't move any faster or slower for him - it marched steadily toward the moment that death may actually arrive.

I've seen a man scared to live. He slumped on the floor, a living pile of inertia. He wept, he swore, he hated me and was so glad I was there, he cursed those closest to him. He did everything but move. Or hope. He weighed the price it would cost to continue breathing as he would silver coins at the market, and wasn't convinced of the bargain. He would not be moved until he chose to, and I wasn't sure he would.

I've seen a man scared to fail. Frozen by unending "what ifs?", he dared not choose A or B. A could be ruinous, but B could be disastrous. C was certain chaos and so was never even discussed. People might be harmed, he might be fired, the company might make a mint - or spend one. He consumed more time trying to find who could make the decision for him than finding the solution. Anything to escape what he feared. At least the status quo was undisastrous.

I've seen a man scared to succeed. The accolades first brought pride, then satisfaction, and then fear. A little success is good, but now they might expect more. "If I do more, what if I succeed more? Can I handle it?" All he wanted to do is go places, and now it looks like he's going places, but he's not sure he still likes the destination. That place gets lot of attention (scrutiny); that place has a lot of responsibility (blame); that place elevates (a higher perch to fall from).

I know a Man scared of nothing. He was not scared to die, which then gave me life. He was not scared to live, and so He bore my sorrows and knew my temptations. He was not scared to fail, because He knew that He was on an infallible mission. He was not scared to succeed, even though everyone around Him thought it was a failure. I have looked in the eyes of those who fear, and I have seen life through fearful eyes. I can go forward not because I have enough courage, but because I know the Man scared of nothing.

Evangelism Introverted

I'm an introvert. Actually, I'm extremely introverted according to the Myers-Briggs personality assessment. Don't let the number of words I say fool you - I'm a turtle put up on a platform. That means that I process internally and that I recharge by being alone. I love people, but being around a lot of them gives energy to extroverts and wears out us introverts. When I was a software manager, we would work these two-day job fairs 3 or 4 times a year, interviewing dozens of people each day. By the end of each day, we introverts were exhausted and the extroverted HR folks were so revved up they wanted to go out clubbing. I just wanted to go home and say nuttin' to nobody for a week.

Extroverts don't understand introverts. They might intellectually understand what introversion means, but they don't really get us. No amount of explaining will make them see ... and besides, no introvert wants to do that much explaining!

And yet as believers, we are told we're supposed to be involved in this thing called evangelism. For extroverts, "Yahoo!!! Something else I get to talk about!" For introverts, "Please, God, no. Take it back. Tell me to come in before everyone else and set up the chairs or something, but not that."

As we've been talking over these weeks about discipleship and reaching out to others, perhaps my fellow introverts have been nodding in agreement in principle, but secretly determining that most of this stuff is for them. You know them - they're the ones talking to six people at once after the Sunday morning gathering. Apparently, sitting quietly and taking notes isn't good enough for some people. (What's wrong with them, anyway?)

One of the notes we've had in our planning documents from the very beginning is "Don't forget the introverts." That's pretty easy, since both Jimmy and I are introverted.

Rather than write a long article on this (and repeat some really good articles on the topic), I want to stick with just one point. The word evangelize is not Greek for "Talk a lot to a lot of people, and especially those you don't know." It is Greek for "To bring Good News." There's nothing in this definition that requires extroversion. The only thing that requires extroversion is how the church has typically taught evangelism (taught by extroverts who don't get how introverts can be truly introverted).

So, my fellow introverts, have you ever given good news to anyone about anything? News about sports, politics, technology, or even the right answer on an exam (truth is a form of good news)? Ever? Did you do this in writing? One-on-one? In response to someone else who started the conversation? (Did you die in the process?) Sharing the Good News of Christ doesn't have to be any different than other ways you've already introvertedly shared good news about other things.

Evangelize as an introvert if you're an introvert. Trying to evangelize as someone you're not is way too hard. Trust me - I do that every week.

By the way, introverts don't understand extroverts, either. So ... just stop trying to explain it to me. Seriously - just chill.

Grace and Human Effort

Point: Jesus says that apart from Him, we can do nothing (John 15:1-11). The consistent Christian message is that we cannot accomplish anything significant by our own effort: salvation, sanctification, holiness, converting others, and so on. A significant portion of the narratio Dei (the narrative of God) is demonstrating that man cannot repair the damage inflicted upon himself by his sin or reach the presence of God by his own devices.

Counterpoint: Diana Nyad, 64, swims from Cuba to Florida in 53 hours. Felix Baumgartner reaches Mach 1.25 jumping from a balloon at nearly 128,000 feet and lands safely. Men and women gather their collective abilities to launch rovers to land on Mars then explore and send back mountains of data. An international team collaborates to determine how to decode DNA. Man can do amazing things with or without calling upon God for any help.

Two of the many questions these observations bring to the surface are:

1. How can both be true?
2. Should I or should I not try hard with the activities of the Kingdom?

How can both be true? Do we have conflicting observations, or are they complementary? Can we or can we not do something significant on our own? There's no denying the amazing feats accomplished by believers and unbelievers alike - physical achievements, mental achievements, and even overcoming challenges to personal fortitude.

For both to be true, there must be one other observation: Making ourselves eternally significant is a feat more difficult than even the most amazing human accomplishment. Rather than downplay or deny the significance of what humans have accomplished "on their own," the magnitude of what we can do only shows just how impossibly difficult it is for us to even approach "good enough" by God's holy standard. In other words, Observation 2 (the greatness of man's accomplishments) demonstrates by comparison the height of Observation 1 (the greatness of God's accomplishment in us).

The greatest things we've done are still less than what Jesus accomplishes by meeting God's standard. And then, by grace through faith, He gives to us as a gift that kind of perfection! Not our own, but His accomplishment cloaked around us, crediting it to us as if we had accomplished it ourselves.

Should I or should I not try hard with the activities of the Kingdom? If even the greatest acts of the most amazing men and women cannot advance the Kingdom, then what good are all the acts of us less amazing people? If the strongest man can't push a rock into heaven, why should the rest of us push at boulders? And yet God effectively commands us to push at boulders ("make disciples," "exceed the righteousness of the Pharisees," "love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength").

In order for our Kingdom-minded actions to mean anything, there must be one other observation: God's commands are not for what we produce, but rather for what He produces in us. He commands us to push at boulders not because He wants us to move boulders without Him, but that He wants us to be the kind of people who push boulders. By putting our every effort into pushing boulders, God changes us into the kind of people He wants us to be. He wants us to be fully committed boulder-pushers, the kind of people who pour every ounce of sweat into His business, even though we can't push boulders into heaven.

He'll take care of moving the boulders. But He wants us to be fully engaged in His work, rather than a bunch of boulder-watchers who are disengaged from His work. He wants us to resemble Him by being as involved in His work as it takes to swim from Cuba to Florida.

Man's greatest feats and God's Word are not at odds - the weakness of our "greatness" demonstrates how necessary the Cross is, just like the magnitude of the universe only demonstrates how much more vast God must be.

Definer Questions

There have been a few people in my life who have asked me "definer questions." That's my made-up term for questions that cut through all the complexities of an issue and lay the real issue bare in clear, simple terms. Some of these definer questions have lead to successful major life decisions.

There are presently two related definer questions that I am mulling over these days, targeted specifically to the research that we've been doing on discipleship (in large part from Jimmy's efforts).

The first definer question comes out of a study I did with a couple of students over the last year. I figured two young men at the beginning of their lives as adults would benefit greatly from Paul's words to Timothy, who was also facing a world as "the young guy." For each passage of the text, we discussed structure and meaning, but then I always brought it around to the same question each week: What does this mean for being a fully committed follower of Jesus?

Invariably, there would be an awkward silence. We just finished talking about the passage and thought we had a handle on it. But then after this question popped out, all of us realized that we hadn't really mined the depths of the passage. We would look at the passage again and again, and begin to appreciate the layers of the text. Eventually, we'd begin to offer answers to the question - answers that made us uncomfortable because of the cost necessitated by discipleship. But what rich discomfort it was!

The second definer question is more focused on how to evaluate and improve our ministries here at Grace. There are many good things we can do in church ministry - far too many to do all of them. There are things that we've always done - many of which we should continue doing, but others perhaps not. (For example, we didn't do a carnival this summer because it was not the best use of our energy this year.) That question is: Is this the best way to cultivate complete followers of Jesus?

This question helps us keep our focus on our priorities and not put our effort into any number of good things that keep us from the great things. There are a lot of good ways to disciple others, but we want to do the best things we can to cultivate complete followers.

We just had a discussion among some of the leaders about a particular opportunity. So I posed this second question. What transpired was great dialog with quite a spread of opinions, but the differences don't scare me. The dialog was the kind of authentic discussion that we must have for us to keep on mission, with everyone contributing truly pertinent thoughts specific to our church's highest priorities. We may have missed some important ideas if we didn't have a definer question. A definer question gave us a means to navigate a tough issue and to make some decisions now as well as fuel further discussions later. It gave us clarity for the process of evaluating this and other issues.

What are one or two "definer questions" for your life's mission?

My habits are so habitual

We've been studying and teaching about discipleship and a missional mindset over these last several weeks, with the goal of getting our minds right on these ideas before even attempting to do anything specific about it. It is our expectation that right actions will come from right thinking, and right habits will come from right actions.

This great theory, however, doesn't prevent me from my wrong habits that come from wrong actions that come from wrong thinking.

While moving Lynne's folks this week, my brother-in-law (Steve) and I did a McDonald's run for breakfast, since the kitchen had already been completely packed. (Although I consider fast food a bad habit in its own right, that's not where my story is going.) I had a very simple order - one eggwhite muffin combo, one #1 combo, and three #2 combos, all with coffee. To her credit, the gal working the counter was extremely creative in finding ways to fulfill the order by all methods except the correct one.

I confirmed three separate times that they were all combos with coffee. And yet, I had to stop her from filling sodas and to pour coffee instead, then from 3 coffees to 5, then from 3 hash browns to 5. The floor manager noted she had rung up the order incorrectly, which she shrugged off wordlessly. After all of that, I still never got my #1 combo. If I had wanted two eggwhite combos, I'm quite sure I would have said something other than "one eggwhite combo and one #1 combo." Never did she acknowledge an error, apologize, smile, or even try to change her original, determined plan.

Here's where my wrong thinking led to my habitually wrong action: My concern for this person, who God loves and who bears His image, was fleeting at best. In my habit, she existed only to feed me quickly, pleasantly, and without error. When she failed to exist in that manner, my main concern was getting the greasy, high-caloric, high-fat, oversalted breakfast (and coffee!!) that I was on a "mission" to get.

But my real mission is supposed to be to cultivate complete followers of Jesus (Matt 28:16-20). My real mission never really came to mind because of my habits, which came from my actions, which came from my thinking.

I want a new set of habits so that my first thought for people I encounter is to wonder how I can cultivate, even a little. How can I "loosen the lid"? By habit, I'm still more of a consumer than a cultivator. But ... my thinking is beginning to change (aided by a little indigestion, which reminded me of right priorities - bleh).

Why these limits?

I wish I had more hours in the day.

If I won the lottery, I'd give half to the church. Think of the things we could do with that!

I'll sleep later ... there's work to do!

I wish God had made me better at this! It would be good for His purposes - why didn't He give me more talent?

We bump up against these kinds of limits every day. We are limited to the number of years we have on this earth. We are limited in the amount of money we have, even money for worthy, sacrificial causes. We are limited every day by our need to sleep and by the amount of energy we have. We are limited in our capacities and talents. We live lives of limitations.

If I was running the show, I don't think I would have done it that way. If I have purposes for my universe, why would I want to limit the capacity of my little subjects to carry out my purposes? That seems counterproductive. Why limit them from the very things I want to happen in my universe? There's so much work to be done!!!

These are merely theoretical questions, but we face real, tough questions in real, tough situations. We could send more food to an overseas orphanage if we had more money - the nutrition of little kids is on the line! A pastor could serve more needs, do more counseling, prepare better sermons if he didn't have to sleep at night. More people could hear about the claims of Christ if I had better skills at talking with and engaging people - but as it is, they're hearing a substandard rendition of the Gospel. There are real consequences to these limits.

And these limits are put there by God Himself. He designed us to require sleep, He does not permit us to have infinite wealth, He did not give everyone every gift ... or any gift in full measure. He does not permit us to live beyond the century mark, on average. Yes, our our sin and our own lack of diligence contribute to these limits, but there are hard limits put on us by the very hand of God.

Why? We could do so much more of the stuff He likes!

First, we need to reconsider what God wants to accomplish in the universe. We Westerners tend to be task-oriented, and so we foist onto God a task-orientation and assume His goal for the universe is for more of His favorite tasks to be accomplished. It is true that He wants some tasks done. But His greater goal is to develop us into a particular kind of people. And He accomplishes that purpose better with limits than without. What God wants to do in our character, He does more effectively by putting these limits in our lives.

He wants us to be sacrificial (which you don't have to do much if you have no limits). He wants us to offer to Him our prayer-saturated, wisdom-influenced decisions as an act of worship (you don't need to be wise if you have infinite resource). He wants us to choose the best over the good. He wants us to be humble. He wants us to rely on Him. He wants us to have a particular character, and He carves that character with the blade of limitations.

Second, we remember the mind-boggling truth that when Jesus came to earth, He took on Himself a life of limitations. He has existed eternally with all the attributes of God, which means the only real limitations He had were that He could not do anything less than perfect and He could not do anything contrary to His nature. Other than that, He really didn't have any limits. Now, with a full human nature, even a sinless one, He lived within limitations of time, strength and stamina, resources, and the demands of sleep.

Jesus' ministry on earth was performed not only in spite of, but because of those limitations. He died. That's a limitation God had never experienced before. Without that limitation, we are lost in our sin.

Limitations annoy us, frustrate us, and can even draw us into depression. However, limitations are also God's gift to us in order to accomplish His greater purpose. He glorifies Himself through us because we face limitations. It's not a question of having limitations, but what we do with them.