Was I Made for More than This?

Raise your hand if you've ever asked this.

Now put your hand down, because it looks odd to raise your hand while looking at the screen.

Were you? Were you made for more than what your typical week includes? Or, were you made pretty much for the life you presently have? Does your life approximate what God specifically designed you for?

I don't ask assuming "yes" or "no" for you. But I want you to think about it. Maybe you've hit that sweet spot of feeling like your "this" is exactly what God made you for. Maybe not.

Be careful of what "more" means, though. "More" does not necessarily mean more money, more recognition, more power, more reach, more of a career, or more toys and experiences. "More" could mean more depth, more honesty, more genuine relationships, more clarity, or more of some other intangible. Whatever the "more" is, do you feel like you were made for it, but aren't experiencing it?

In part, all followers of Christ should feel this. We live in the "Already, But Not Yet" Kingdom, of which we have great foretastes, but not the full measure. We were in fact made for more than this. In Christ, we were made for the full-on, unveiled Kingdom of God. And ideally, we should feel that nagging sense that we were made for more than what we presently experience.

I would also venture a guess that most of us were made for more than what we have of this life, too. What God designed us for, saved us for, equipped us for, and calls us to is almost certainly more than the life we each live today. I say this not to drive to guilt, but to open our eyes that we have not set our sights for our lives as high as God has.

C.S. Lewis wrote in The Weight of Glory:

“It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

However, the "more" in our lives may have absolutely nothing to do with quitting our jobs, going to seminary, becoming missionaries, and living in huts (although it might). "More" may have nothing to do with doing more at your local church (although it might).

But what if "more" meant that what you are presently doing, you are to continue doing, but with more intentionality for the Kingdom of God? The cab driver need not turn in his license and pack for Indonesia. Perhaps he need only to understand that driving a cab can be a very full way of living in the Kingdom of God. Rather than merely collecting fares, the cab driver enables others to thrive in their lives. Perhaps he can provide a positive personality for someone who has had to handle angry customers all day. He might even ask to pray for (or with) a customer who shares some bad news. He can understand that by God's sovereignty, he is put in contact with hundreds of people in a month - people who may never step foot in a church. He can train others to not only drive cabs, but to drive cabs in ways that serve God.

Perhaps you were made for more than this, and perhaps that "more" is that you continue doing what you're doing, but with much more of an idea that you live in the "Already, But Not Yet" Kingdom especially in the work God has for you to do.

How to Make a Good Argument

Jesus made some wild, outlandish, hard-to-believe claims about himself. Whether or not you believe him, you can at least admit (assuming, of course, the Gospel accounts are accurate enough) that Jesus' claims about himself were things we typically hear only from egomaniacs, delusional people off their meds, or presidential candidates.

But how he went about making his case was also off the wall, too. He set himself up to be easily proven wrong. Don't we usually try to avoid that?

He didn't try to win his argument - and there were arguments (chapters 6 and 10 of John, for example) - by means of raising his voice, by dominating the conversation with extra rhetoric, by ad hominem attacks, or by posting myopic memes. In fact, he didn't even keep engaged in the argument until he had "won." He didn't expect to be believed just because he said something, even though of all people, he uniquely has that right. He didn't get mad at people just because they disagreed with him.

What he did do was say, in effect, "Don't believe what I'm saying just because I'm saying it. Watch me. Just do that - watch me. See how I live. See the things that I do and how I do them. Believe me if you see my actions making my argument for me."

Jesus made himself falsifiable. That doesn't mean he was false. Rather, it means that if he was false, it would have been easy to show. This is a term used in scientific research - scientific claims are supposed to be falsifiable, meaning that another scientist is given the means by which to validate or invalidate the claims. If a scientific claim is not falsifiable, it is automatically suspect in the eyes of the scientific community.

In essence, Jesus set himself up. He made wild claims and then put the entire weight of his claims on the end of the tree branch of his works, and dared people to cut off the branch.

And because Jesus made such outlandish claims, he had to do some outlandish acts to match them. It would not have been adequate to back up a claim of being God's only Son by giving a sandwich to a homeless person. Or by being a better debater. No, it had to be big stuff ... which means they would be even easier to falsify if they weren't genuine.

Dear Christian, don't have a greater expectation of what your words can do than Jesus did of his words. For any claim you make about matters of faith, make it falsifiable by your own life.

Don't claim God is full of mercy without making that claim falsifiable by your own life - can the outlandish claim be validated by a life that's been affected by mercy? Don't claim God is forgiving, powerful, good, holy, interested in the affairs of people, or better than money, sex, drugs, and fame without making those claims falsifiable with your life. Put all the weight of your claims on the branch of what you do. Yikes!

You'll never be all those things perfectly. No one expects you to, and it's not necessary. How does a merciful God manifest himself in the life of an imperfect person? How does a forgiving, powerful, good, holy, interested-in-the-affairs-of-people, better-than-money-sex-drugs-and-fame God manifest himself in the life of an imperfect person? Does your life make it hard to deny that God is merciful and better than money? I won't believe your claim unless you make it hard to deny with your life.

Do the works in order to set yourself up like Jesus did. Don't expect people to believe what you say, but make the claims, and then bank the validity of your claims on how you live your life. Say, "look at me and decide whether or not to believe me based on my very imperfect, but impacted-by-Jesus life." Jesus expected no more than this of his own contemporaries.

If you make the claim of who God is, it's already falsifiable by your life. Give the other scientists the means by which to validate or invalidate your claim.

(And lest you be tempted to make no claims at all to get yourself off the hook, the absence of a claim is a claim itself.)

"Stay in the Shade!"

Drinking a shake at McDonald's in the urban core, not a common habit of mine, became a vivid reminder for me last week about our posture before those around us.

My goal was to read. I had time between appointments, which I intended to spend by catching up on a reading assignment for an upcoming conference. Successful reading for me requires either silence or a steady background of noise. Instead, I got alternating waves of the shouts and whispers commonly heard in the core - bursts of laughter, exchanges across the dining room, advice, criticism, and all manners of life lived out loud, interrupted by pockets of nothingness.

The woman at the counter trying to get the attention of the worker, whose back was turned, because she needed a tray for the drinks since she was walking home to her son and her mother. The job applicant's boyfriend jawing about when he used to work in this restaurant years ago and the people he used to know. The older couple, he in suspenders and she in a wheelchair, in loud whispers recollecting faceless names. The lady with the wide hat three tables away talking to me about the weather.

People's lives lived out loud, louder than I'm accustomed to. Details of their lives I didn't ask for, and didn't really want to know. "I don't care!" I wanted to shout. I didn't. Not really. "I. Don't. Care!!! So stop telling me, and everyone, about the details of your life that we have no business knowing."

The lady in the wide hat told me it was warm outside. Actually, it was cooler than it had been, and was quite pleasant. So I said something stupid: "Actually, it's not that bad out there today, for August." She insisted it was hot, and I kind of blew it off. I could have proved her wrong with the temperature and humidity data if I wanted to.

Here's what I missed: She had been walking all morning because her daughter failed to pick her up, and she was about to walk a couple miles at two in the afternoon to her son's job so that he could drive her home. She was right, and I was wrong - it was hot that day ... for anyone who had to walk for miles during the hottest part of the day. That yesterday was a more typical August day was irrelevant. It was easy for me to say it wasn't that hot because I had so bravely walked from my air conditioned car for the ten seconds it took to get into the air conditioned McDonald's so that I could buy myself a cold shake.

I was wrong because I didn't listen. I had the data to prove my argument, sure, but I never listened. I didn't want to because I. Didn't. Care. She had told me earlier about walking, about her life in that moment, just like everyone else in the restaurant had been doing so loudly. Unlike what I'm accustomed to, people were freely and loudly sharing their lives. And I wasn't listening or caring.

The woman told me something about her life: she had to walk because her daughter continually runs late, she has a son, he has a job (I even know which furniture store) and a car, he's kind enough to give her rides, and she had a warm walk ahead of her because she wants to get home. Her hat is wide because she regularly walks for miles in the sun. The cup tray lady has a son and a mother living in her home, which obviously is nearby enough to be within walking distance, and she was bringing them something cool to drink. Suspenders man gently cares for his wheelchair-bound wife. Job applicant boyfriend remembers his coworkers and is doing what he can so his girlfriend can find work, too. He had spent the last two years in Arizona and just came back to KC in May in order to work.

I was right on the statistics, but wrong on a person's real, daily life because I didn't listen. I was in a place where life's details are shared freely, people telling me about themselves, and I acted like I was in the quiet, "polite" place where you talk softly about coffee flavors or how good your seats were last night at the game or you don't say anything at all.

I'm not suggesting that everyone should share their lives more openly and with more volume. I am suggesting that we tune our ears off of our own frequencies and onto the frequency of those who are speaking. I could argue the effects of relative humidity (listening to her, but tuned to my frequency) or I could be part of this woman's distress (listening to her, tuned to her frequency). How hot I thought it was didn't change the walk she had ahead of her, and it sure didn't help her get home.

As if to salvage myself, I did muster a "stay in the shade" as she collected herself to leave. I had heard her, a least a little, and I entered into her experience, at least a little.

I've Got a Great Electrician

My name is George, and I want to tell you about the great job I'm doing as a homeowner.

I bought this house quite a few years ago. It's an older house, and I knew it needed some work when I got it. But it's the house I wanted, and I liked the idea of owning my own home, fixing things around the house, mowing the lawn, painting, buying the right furniture, and having people over. I'm not the handiest guy when it comes to tools, but I can swing a hammer and lay down a pretty smooth coat of paint. But I'll never touch the plumbing or the electrical. I'll climb on the roof and replace a vent and put in new flashing, but I won't touch anything electrical at all - nothing more than flipping a breaker.

After a few years of the lights not staying at a consistent brightness, some of the outlets working only part of the time and others not at all, and tripping the circuit every time I made toast and coffee at the same time, I decided it was time to call a pro.

I did my homework, got some personal recommendations, and called a good electrician. He came, evaluated the whole house, making a clicking noise with his tongue every time he found something wrong. He clicked a lot. He had to borrow some extra paper from me for his clipboard to get all the notes down. This was not going to be a quick and easy fix. Sure enough, when he read his novel of disaster to me, I was facing lots of time, several trips, and the delay of my plans to retire by about 18 months.

We scheduled the first of many visits. This time, he was just going to replace the breaker box and rerun the wiring to the box so that it didn't look so much like Einstein's hairdo. He fixed it all in a few hours, gave me the bill, and then I think he started checking Craig's List on his smartphone for a new boat that he would soon be able to afford.

The next time he came back, I took him down to the basement where the breaker box was and showed him how good the wiring was and how much better the box handled the electrical loads of daily life. And then I thanked him for coming, and escorted him out the front door. He seemed a bit puzzled as he walked back to his van.

He called back to set another appointment, which we made. When he showed up, I took him back down to the basement and showed him again how well the panel was doing, and then excused him. He said something about getting to the rest of the house as I closed the door behind him.

We repeated this three more times - showing him the panel with him making some comments about the other electrical needs throughout the house, while I was quite satisfied to show the electrician how good my panel looked and then show him out the door. He's welcome to come back anytime he wants to admire the good work he did in that one part of the house.

I'm pretty proud of myself as a homeowner. (You should see my electrical panel!)

Does this seem strange to you? Are you a bit confused about how I treat my electrician? You shouldn't be. This is how we let Jesus into our lives all the time.

I've Often Not Been on Boats

One of our favorite movies is Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead - a very clever Tom Stoppard 1990 movie based on his equally clever 1966 stage play. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are bit characters in Shakespeare's Hamlet, who appear in just few scenes of Shakespeare, but are the main characters of this story.

In R&GAD, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (or is it Guildenstern and Rosencrantz?) travel through the parts of Hamlet that their characters appear in, all the time trying to determine what the rest of Hamlet is about. They appear in only a few scenes of Hamlet, but from just those scenes as "real characters" caught in the story, they are trying to determine the full story of Hamlet. What they end up with is convoluted and inaccurate, because their characters are never exposed to key parts of the story.

The dialog is clever and quick, including a verbal tennis match. The comedy ranges from simple slapstick to deep irony. They ponder the meaning of life, death, time, and even boats. At one point, there's a play within a play within a play within a play. It's a movie worth seeing several times, because you don't catch every joke, gag, and line the first time around.

Sometimes we do the same thing with life as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. We look at only the scenes in which we appear, and then try to figure out the overall narrative, the "big picture" of life. Based on just the tidbits we personally experience, we try to reconstruct an intelligent play written by a gifted author. And we rarely do a good job of it. We ponder the meaning of life, death, time, and even boats, and conclude something far more convoluted than the actual narrative, because we've not been exposed to key parts of the story.

Rather, we should just read the full play that the author wrote. Only then does the whole story make sense. And only then do our few scenes make sense. The story is not about us, and so we cannot reconstruct the story based only on the scenes that do happen to be about us.

Rosencrantz says,

Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one. A moment. In childhood. When it first occurred to you that you don't go on forever. Must have been shattering, stamped into one's memory. And yet, I can't remember it. It never occurred to me at all. We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the word for it. Before we know that there are words. Out we come, bloodied and squalling, with the knowledge that for all the points of the compass, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure.

This unalterable progression of time is a storyline greater than our own, approaching long before we are born and advancing long after we die. Our lives are but one brief paragraph of a great play by a gifted author, rendered overly complex when we try to understand it from the inside out.

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.

Life Lessons or Life Lessens

Our church family is mourning the recent loss of a dear lady named Margaret. Many knew her quite well, and not a few have known her more than 30 years. However, those who have been with us less than four years or so haven't had as much chance to get to know her. Her last several years were spent mostly within the confines of a care facility, and her ability to be with us steadily diminished with her health. To get to know Margaret in these years required going to her - and that privilege was well worth the trip.

Although I was not with Margaret the hour she passed, Lynne and I were able to spend quite a bit of time with her, her family, and a constant stream of loved ones over her last two days. We were also with her and her husband Pete when he passed almost exactly four years ago. The pastoral responsibilities, as you might imagine, have put me in a number of situations where the pall of death drapes down from the rafters like a curtain.

Those experiences have run the spectrum. There have been peaceful times where underlying confidence of entering into the presence of the Lord buoys the entire experience. There have been times when there remained far more unresolved relational issues than the time left afforded for any real repair, despite frantic attempts to "set things right." There was even one situation where the person was not prepared to die and fought it with everything she had, including some rather disturbing moments of sheer, inconsolable dread.

One thing that has been cemented in me through the collection of these experiences is that death is not the worst thing that can happen to us. First, estrangement from others rivals death. That may sound overstated ... while we're all breathing in and out with some measure of confidence. But when the end for one of the estranged parties is within days or hours, I have seen more grief caused by the ill repair of the relationship than by the parting of death. The regrets that soon follow further exceed the pain of loss. On the other hand, when the relationships are healthy, the last hours are not panicked, largely ineffective stabs at reconciliation. Rather, the loved ones can focus merely on the comfort of and fond memories with the dying.

Second, estrangement from God far exceeds death. While we're strong and eager, we may ignore God or even shake our fists at Him. But He is eternal, and our bodies are temporal. There will always come a time when we are too weak, too close to passing, to even form a fist to shake at Him. The confidence that death is nothingness teeters ... "What if?" When one is estranged from God, there is no external surety that what lies ahead is better. On the other hand, a healthy relationship with the Lord stirs a sense of eager anticipation beneath the immediacy of loss.

The reality of impending death for each of us gives us a choice: Life Lessons or Life Lessens. Either death teaches us lessons about life, especially about our relationships with others and with God, or life lessens - it becomes less valuable. In that case, death does not enrich the days we have left. In that case, death just robs those days of deep joy, peace, and love they could otherwise contain.

I've seen enough death to appreciate life, but not cling to it more than everything else. Because I have seen a number of deaths, I value more my relationships with others and with the Lord. Death can be our tutor, or it can be just a thief.

Banned for Life

This week, Donald Sterling, the owner of the Los Angeles Clippers basketball team, was banned for life from participating in the NBA. A recorded phone conversation between him and his mistress was made public, which revealed blatantly racist comments. Public reaction was swift and strong, overwhelmingly critical of his comments. His own team silently protested in a recent playoff game by wearing their shirts inside out during the introductions.

The comments he made were undeniably racist and are indefensible. I'm not going to argue whether or not a lifelong ban is appropriate for ugly racism. But I am struck by the severity of the reaction. Banned for life, not for racist actions but for racist thoughts. Yes, once public, those words inflict damage to the league, and if the reaction were just for that, there's a good argument that the severity is justified. My impression, however, is that they are not reacting to the actual damage done, but for how much they don't like those thoughts.

I don't like those thoughts, either. Not one bit. They are entirely repugnant. And the league has every right to ban someone for public comments that directly damage their organization. But I'm still brewing on the possibility of a lifelong ban because of what someone thinks.

Other examples are becoming more common. Scientists denied work if they believe the universe originates with God, restaurant owners being denied business licenses if they hold a personal belief about the boundaries of marriage (or shaggy men losing their TV show), CEOs ousted by popular demand for personally supporting a particular bill, and so on. Because of what they think, ugly or not, even if they never treat people unequally, they are banned from engaging in commerce.

I'm not writing a piece on American free speech rights. I'm not writing an alarmist article to incite people to hunker down for a fight. Rather, in the face of increasing, severe, and potentially expensive consequences for holding a view deemed unacceptable by a vocal crowd, Christians have a decision to make now.

We must decide in this moment that we're willing to be banned for life for what we believe - banned from a league, from a job, from an industry, from a community. Before the heat comes, before the crowd gets vocal, we must have already established that we would rather be banned than abandon our beliefs. After the heat comes, the temptation to falter is stronger, and for anyone unprepared, resisting will be all the harder. The "heat" may be mild or sizzling hot, but it seems clear that the temperature is rising. We must settle this while it's still relatively cool.

A word of warning: It's crucial that we're sure which beliefs are core and which ones aren't. Put a gun to my head, and I won't deny that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, but I'm not going to insist on a mid-tribulation, pre-millennial eschatology! Burn me at the stake over the Trinity, but it's not even worth breaking a sweat over determining which political party has the most avarice. Fire me for believing God made everything, but it's not important to me that we agree on how long He took to do it.

Be willing to be banned for life over the Gospel. Because others will be banned for eternal life without it.

ABNY Week

I'm in a rather unique window of time this week. 

Last week, my dad began cancer treatments. It's not a grave scenario, and the non-chemo treatments are for better quality of life rather than trying to stave off his mortal decline. The side effects are not severe, and in his case, manageable and quite minor. But it's still cancer treatment, an ominous reminder of the inevitable degradation of the human body. We get old and eventually die.

On the other hand, this Sunday, I won't be with you all because I'll be at my folks' church with the amazing privilege of baptizing my own mother. Baptism is the most prominent Christian symbol of new birth, new life, and our everlasting existence in the Kingdom of God. The exact opposite of the decay and death of our fallen state. The promise that is needed only because of things like cancer.

And I'm in this week, the middle of these two events in the lives of my own parents. Yet, this week is a microcosm of the era we all live in - somewhere between the inevitable destruction of these bodies and the fulfillment of the eternal promise of everlasting life by grace through faith in Jesus Christ.

We must not, however, think about the Kingdom of God as something that is only future. There is clearly a great future of enjoying the full Kingdom for all time, with the complete absence of sin, death, sorrow, pain, suffering - the complete absence of the results of being a sinful race. No more cancer and no more cancer treatments and no more side effects of cancer treatments. New, glorified bodies designed to endure forever.

However, the Kingdom of God is also present. Jesus told His own generation that the Kingdom of God was already upon them. At the moment we become members of God's family through faith in Christ, we enter the Kingdom in this era. Our citizenship is in heaven already. We can experience attributes of the Kingdom today. We can live as citizens of the Kingdom this week. Jesus can be our King and reign over every aspect of our lives now. Even while we have things like cancer. Especially because we have things like cancer.

We can also bring aspects of the Kingdom to those God puts us in contact with. Not only can Jesus reign over our lives, but by our influence through the power of the indwelling Holy Spirit, we can bring the goodness of our King to our environments, "on earth as it is in heaven." 

We cannot usher in God's Kingdom, and it is not our task to (contrary to what the "Kingdom Now" theologians claim). We can, however, bless those around us with the benefit of the Kingdom's impact on their lives, too.

If you are not yet sure you're a member of this Kingdom already, it would be a privilege for me to talk with you about it.

In this week, between cancer and the sign of new birth into the Kingdom of God, I rest in the already but not yet. I am able to rest because I know I have already entered that Kingdom, and I am convinced that its fulfillment is even more inevitable than the decline of my own body.

What if we weren't afraid of death?

I'm meeting weekly with a student who's just about to ship off to college under the illusion that I have all kinds of things to teach him. What happens frequently, though, is that during our discussions, one of us will trip over a question that makes us both look up the ceiling and try to figure out just how significant the question is. This happened yet again this week - two guys inspecting the ceiling as if the answer was written there.

The background of the question is that there are many forms of death. There is physical death (heart stops beating, lungs stop breathing), emotional death (no will to be in relationship or to live life), spiritual death (the state we're born in, plus the eternal fire thing), social death (shame, loss of status, friendless), intellectual death (learning nothing, thinking about nothing meaningful), death of security (in danger, no sense of protection), and even economic death (financial ruin). All forms of death, and we could list still others. Death in these terms is not only the opposite of life, but also separation. We are separated from our friends, from God, from security, and so on.

In Scripture, death is punishment for rebellion against God. He brought all forms of death as punishment in varying degrees. Adam and Eve suffered immediate separation after the Fall, Israel suffered waves of death of all kinds to urge them back to the covenant, on the Cross our Lord suffered death and separation on our behalf, and eternal death will be the ultimate punishment in the eternal state.

In Christ, however, death has been defeated. Not just physical death, but all forms of death have been defeated by the finished work of Jesus on the Cross and His resurrection. "Whoever believes, even he dies, yet he will live." (John 11:25)

Yet, fear of death in all its forms cripples us from loving fully, obeying entirely, taking risks for the Kingdom, sharing our faith, giving generously, and on and on. Fear of death prevents us from fully following Christ.

So, our question was, "What if we weren't afraid of death?" Not just physical death, but all forms of death. What would life be like we we had no fear of these things, because all forms of death have been defeated? If we die, yet we shall live - in every form of life. Can I therefore live life with virtually no fear at all of any form of death?

Imagine what your life would be like...

A View from the Canyon

The Grand Canyon is the world's most beautiful hole in the ground. A mile from rim to river, 10 to 18 miles across, 277 miles of river, encompassed in a park covering over 1900 square miles (http://www.nps.gov/grca/faqs.htm#big). With breathtaking vistas, layers of hues, and rugged beauty, the canyon is an untamed beast refusing to be domesticated by the dots of people on the rim looking down.

Some people have never seen the canyon in person. They likely have seen stunning photos and video. Perhaps they've gotten a glimpse from an airplane window, but that doesn't really count, either. They know that the canyon is awesome, but they've never experienced that the canyon is awesome. They probably know someone who has been and can tell them how awesome it is.

Most of the people who have seen the canyon in person and gasped at its size and beauty did so from the safety of the rim, likely from behind the safety of a guardrail. And now, you can even step out into the chasm a bit on the glass-bottomed skywalk, but still safely behind a guardrail. These folks can tell you from personal experience how awesome the canyon is.

(Image from http://www.grandcanyonwest.com/images/latestnews/l-skywalk.jpg)

Imagine, though, someone who wanted to not just be near the canyon, but in the canyon! I'm not talking about renting a burro or scaling the face, but someone who takes a running jump off of the rim, sails a mile downward into the canyon, and SPLAT! Really, really in the canyon! We would say, "How crazy! What a waste!" The man (or woman) threw away a perfectly good life. Even if that life was troubled, it's still a crazy waste, we would say.

Spiritually speaking, there are those who are like the ones who have never seen the Grand Canyon in person. They may have heard about Christ to some degree, but have never met Him "face-to-face." They may know several people who claim to know Him personally, they may even have the impression that Jesus is somewhat awesome.

Others can be like those who have seen the canyon from the ledge - safely behind the guardrails. They attend church somewhat regularly, they read the Bible once in a while, they know from observation that Jesus is incredibly awesome. They could tell others how awesome He is. But they've never taken the leap. They've never been in the canyon - always behind the guardrail.

Still others have taken the flying leap off the rim. No safety net, no scaling gear. Just sailing off into the depths of the canyon. And, just like what would happen in the real canyon, SPLAT! They die!

They die to sin. They die to the "old self." They die to the ways of seeking the pleasures of the flesh. They die to pride, selfishness, rebellion, idolatry, and most of all, religion. And the world says of these who die, "How crazy! What a waste!" All the world sees is a man or woman "throwing away" a perfectly good life. What a crazy waste!

But unlike the canyon, those who make this plunge are resurrected to new life, the "new man," the new creature of the new creation. They are "born again" or "born from above." Scripture says two things about this curious reality: 1) One must die in Christ before he is raised with Christ, and 2) All who die in Christ will be raised with Christ. In other words, SPLAT! of the old self is necessary, but it is always followed by resurrection to the new self.

If the world does not assess our lives as a "crazy waste," then we appear to them to be on the rim of the canyon, not in the canyon itself. At the canyon, not in the canyon. At Christ, but not in Christ. Someone can be in Christ but appear to the world as being only near Christ, and safely never being labeled a "crazy waste." The world should, and in fact the world must, see our lives as a crazy waste, rather than safely on the rim behind the guardrails. We must entice the world to scratch their heads, wondering how we could "throw away" our lives. That is the only way they will know what it means to be in Christ.

Romans 6:4 - Therefore we have been buried with Him through baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. 

Knowing God's Will 101

What would life be like if we always knew God's will for our lives? Would things be radically different if we had a clear understanding of what it was that God wanted us to do? Would I work differently? Would I be busy about different things? Would I sell some of my possessions or take risks I don't presently take? Would my relationships be more genuine and less judgmental? Would I be more forgiving, more focused, more on fire, more prayerful, more active, more faithful, more generous? It seems like life would have more clarity and be simpler if I just knew what God's will for me was.

I work on the assumption that God always gives us everything we need in order for us to do as He pleases. It's just a basic assumption about the nature of God - that He always equips us to do, say, and think what He wants from us. He may equip us with natural talent, with supernatural gifting, with divine help, with His Word, with wise counsel and good friends, and with knowledge. This doesn't mean that He gives us now everything we will ever need for the rest of our lives, but for the day and for the moment, He supplies all that we need one way or another. Psalm 16:11 has this same confidence, "You will make known to me the path of life."

If this assumption is true - and the bulk of Scripture seems to bear it out - then that means that God is in fact also giving us all the knowledge we need of His will for the moment. At any given moment, God has already revealed enough of His will for you to act, do, think, and speak according to His pleasure - for that moment. Perhaps not enough for the moment that follows, but for this one. When that next moment comes, He will have revealed enough for that one, too. Every Biblical hero lived a life of having enough revelation for the moment, even if not for the next. If He always gives us all that we need, then that means He always gives us enough revelation, too.

That may not be all the revelation that we want to have. We may want to know what we're supposed to do for a big life decision, but not sense Him revealing an answer. But if He never fails to provide for the moment, that means we have access to enough to live that moment well, even if we don't see the answer to the big question written on the wall. We may want to know which college to attend, but instead of revealing the answer to that question, God has revealed what to do right now - seek counsel, pray, listen, and wait. We may want to know about a career choice, but He's already revealed to us to work today with integrity, to work diligently to help the company succeed, and to see our coworkers as people who need Christ's love and forgiveness.

There are many things about us that may affect our ability to access His revelation: unwillingness to do what He wants, lack of interest in knowing His will, the distraction of sin that blinds our eyes and clogs our ears, or even just not being well-practiced in paying attention and heeding His will by faith. But He always gives enough.

This means a shift in thinking. To live with the assumption that God has in fact at every moment revealed enough to me to live that moment well, then I don't need to think, "I would do God's will if I just knew what it was." Rather, I need to think, "God has already revealed to me enough of His will for now. What has He revealed? What can I do to be a better listener and follower? I'm asking Him to reveal X, but He's not done that, so what has He revealed? What do I already know about His will to just get busy?"

I find that most often, we already know most of what we're supposed to do. We already know the character and manner in which we're supposed to relate to people and work. We already know that each of us has some responsibility for the Great Commission to make followers of Jesus throughout the world. Sometimes, we even know which decision He wants us to make - we just don't want to or are afraid to.

If we busy ourselves with what we already know to do and practice better and better listening skills through experience, then so many times I've found He uses that kind of faithful action to reveal more of what He wants us to do with our lives. In other words, as you search out His will, be busy doing what He's already revealed for you to do, and I believe He will use that to reveal even more of His will to you. I've seen it way too many times to even doubt this idea any longer.

What would life be like if we always knew God's will for our lives? Would things be radically different if we had a clear understanding of what it was that God wanted us to do? Would I work, think, act, speak, relate, risk, witness, live, pray differently? Yes! And if this assumption is correct, then we already know enough to work, think, act, speak, relate, risk, witness, live, and pray differently. We already have enough to have Kingdom priorities that are radically different than the world's priorities. It begins with the assumption that God will always reveal enough for every moment.

Too Much to Process

I have not yet had a chance to sit down and sift through my notes to write up a trip report to encapsulate the last two weeks in Kenya. I need to get this done, and I will. But not today. Therefore, I am left to ponder singular events and activities for the moment.

On Sunday, I briefly mentioned a reading in Jeremiah that impacted me in a strong way while in Kenya - Jeremiah 2:5, Thus says the Lord, “What injustice did your fathers find in Me, that they went far from Me and walked after emptiness and became empty?”


I was reading this one morning during my Quiet Time. I hadn't read Jeremiah in a long time, and so I just picked it up that morning. There's so much in the first two chapters that catch our attention, and so I've never really dwelt on this verse before. The image of becoming empty because of walking after emptiness shocked my sleepy-headed system. I asked myself, In what ways have I been walking after emptiness and becoming empty?


One could easily say, "Well, here I am in Kenya on a mission trip. I've given up so much earthly comfort to be here. Surely this is anything but walking after emptiness." And it is true. But if one satisfied himself with this statement, he can successfully ignore the power of the passage. Even if I'm willing to go to Kenya, that doesn't mean I don't have times in my life where I'm walking after emptiness.


I can walk after emptiness by wasting time in front of the tube, by pursuing recreation to the point of imbalance, by getting caught up in consumerism, by letting my mind wander onto topics best left alone, even by pursuing ministry goals for personal benefit more than the purposes of the Kingdom. Anything (and indeed everything) I do that is unrelated to the Kingdom of God in some way is walking after emptiness, from sin to idleness to occupying myself with strictly temporal matters.


And by pursuing emptiness, we become empty. In a sense, we get what we've been looking for, to a tragic fault.


"Weigh" the hours of your week. Do you hours have any weight in God's Kingdom? If too few of your hours are pulled by the gravity of heaven, perhaps you are walking after too much emptiness. For our pursuits to be un-empty, they must be substantive in God's economy. We will get what we're looking for - if we walk after emptiness, we'll find it. If we walk after the weighty stuff of God's Kingdom, we'll find it.


I didn't expect that a mission trip to a developing nation would reveal just how empty some of my pursuits are. However, had I read that passage from the comfort of home, I may well have missed what it has to say.