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.

"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.

D17 Part 2: Led by the Spirit

With precious little time left with His disciples, Jesus wastes no breath on trivial matters. He will soon be gone, and the disciples still need His instruction in order to continue on after the crucifixion, so everything He says is discipleship gold. One valuable nugget of that gold is: Discipleship must be Spirit-led.

In John 16:8-13, Jesus unpacks some of the roles that the Holy Spirit will play in the lives of the disciples after Jesus departs to be with the Father. The Spirit is going to take on the job of convicting the world of its bankrupt worldview and guide Jesus' followers into all truth. The Spirit's "job" is to be a reliable, accessible source of truth for believers as they carry out Jesus' mission after He departs.

In 1 Corinthians 2:9-16, the Apostle Paul expands on the role of the Holy Spirit in the ministry of making disciples. He declares with certitude, "No one knows the things of God except the Spirit of God" (11). And since this Spirit indwells all those who have been born again, we therefore "have the mind of Christ" (16).

Paul is teaching about his ministry in particular. We don't have the mind of Christ so that we can better choose which soup to have for lunch. We have the mind of Christ for the purpose of carrying out the will of Christ, and the will of Christ has "make disciples of all nations" toward the top of the list.

Through the indwelling Holy Spirit, who perfectly knows the mind of the Father, we can "know the things that are freely given to us by God" (12). Human wisdom cannot fathom the breadth and impact of these truths - they are taught only by the Spirit (13). Therefore, there are things about the missional will of Christ that we can only learn through the Spirit. We must learn from the Spirit, along with the other means of learning God gives us (His Word, wise counselors, experience, etc.).

We conclude, then, that discipleship must be Spirit-led. We cannot make disciples as Jesus intends without choosing to be led by the Spirit. Any attempt to make disciples by leaving the Spirit out of it will not be the Jesus way.

Even Jesus did not make disciples without being led by the Spirit, who guided Him into the wilderness, guided Him in selecting His disciples, empowered Him to teach the disciples all that the Father revealed to Him, and so on. If Jesus doesn't make disciples without being Spirit-led, what use is it for us to even try?

The discipleship of you must be Spirit-led, and your discipleship of others must be Spirit-led. Seek out the Spirit's leading in prayer. Ask and wait. Expect Him to move, to guide, to reveal. When you sense His leading, check it against Scripture and wise counselors, take a step in faith, and then ask Him again if you're walking in the right direction. Make disciples this way! Books and guides can be helpful (or get in the way), but seeking out the leading of the Spirit is not optional!

Listening to the Spirit takes patience, discipline, and practice. I once worked on a software product that used modems, and so we tested every model we could find. In the lab, at first it just sounded like a bunch of noise as the modems screeched their way into data connections. Over time, with practice, I was able to tell you the modem brand, model, and data speed just by listening (we all could - it was hard to avoid!). The same is true with the Spirit - with enough practice and patience, we begin to discern His voice from out of all the noise.

Then once we hear His voice, the only thing left is to obey what He says. Make disciples this way.

(This is the 2nd of 17 truths about discipleship that we are discussing in this series. The idea for this article comes from Caesar Kalinowski.)