Ought You Read This?

Man, I really oughta exercise more. I oughta drive more carefully. You oughta be nicer to children. You oughta - ought to!

What stirs in you with this phrase "ought to"? What effect does it really have within us (as opposed to the effect it oughta have)?

• Do you experience guilt, because you're not doing something you oughta? Chances are you already knew you oughta, and the word just exposes your failure.
• Perhaps it's about something you didn't already know you oughta to - so, maybe the phrase just alerts you to a new behavior that you will eagerly start doing now that you know you oughta.
• Does the phrase bring dread - yet one more thing I oughta do, but I'm busy enough as it is! 
• Does it evoke a rebellious spirit, predisposed to do the opposite of oughta ("noughta"???). 
• Does it suggest something that would be a really good option to have, but isn't really necessary? "I know I oughta take a shower, but I'm not expecting anyone to come over today."

And then Scripture uses the word. Well, that just makes it worse. Now my guilt is biblical guilt, my dread is unholy dread, and my rebellion is against God. Thanks a bunch. (And I ought not say stuff like that about the Bible. Thanks again!)

However, I wonder if the Bible uses the word in a way somewhat different than how we typically take it. If so, would that help us react to the word with a more positive attitude, or more sobriety, or more internal motivation?

There are a few different Greek words used in the New Testament that often get translated "ought" in English. Two frequent ones are:

ὀφείλει - to owe something, to owe a debt in particular, to have something due from you, to be obligated, to be bound; something that is necessary or indispensable

 δεῖ - to be necessary, to be in need of; something that is right and proper

Is that at least slightly different than how you respond to the word? If anything, this word suggests something that is less optional than we may have thought. Even though the implications of the words are pretty firm, perhaps there is less guilt, because the word doesn't talk about what makes you good or bad, but rather describes your relationship to someone or something. In other words, ought is not about defining me, but the connection I have with someone else. Perhaps the idea of "owing" something gives ought a more specific nature, something less vague.

See Romans 15:1, for example.

Now we who are strong ought to bear the weaknesses of those without strength and not just please ourselves. 

This uses the first of the two Greek words above. Rather than looking at this as "well, if you were a good Christian, you would bear the weaknesses of those without strength, but if you don't, you're a bad Christian," I suggest there is a different way to look at this word.

Consider it this way:

You who are strong, you owe a debt to the weak. Yup, that's right. I know it sounds backwards - usually the weak owe debts to the strong, but God's Kingdom doesn't work like the world works. In God's Kingdom, the strong owe a debt to the weak. That's why God made them strong for a time. With the strength came a debt attached - the obligation of being strong. And it's a debt payable to the weak. You who are strong, you ought to bear their weaknesses - that's your debt. In fact, bearing their weaknesses is indispensable for you. 

Furthermore, you ought not merely please yourselves with your strength. You don't owe yourself that debt. That's why you "noughta."

Apply the same idea to other passages and see how they pan out:

• Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another (1 John 4:11).
• Therefore, we ought to support such men, so that we may be fellow workers with the truth (3 John 8).
• ... for which I am an ambassador in chains; that in proclaiming it I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak (Ephesians 6:20).

And so on. Give some thought to how we react to the word ought and how that might change a bit if we looked at it more positionally than morally.

You oughta see this word ought differently. Really. You owe yourself that much.

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.)

Listen up, it's important

This week, I quoted A.W. Tozer with a statement that may be familiar to many of you:

What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.

Tozer's idea is that our conception of God defines who we are as individuals, establishes our values and priorities, and locates our meaning. Therefore, Tozer posits, we'd better have very clear and accurate ideas about who God is - it's essential for us to enjoy the human experience to the fullest.

Whether someone believes that God exists or not, one could agree with Tozer on this point. An atheist who is quite convinced there is no god could concur - that what comes into my mind when I think about God is that he doesn't exist is the most important thing about me. An agnostic, a Muslim, a Catholic, a Protestant, a polytheist, a social gospel adherent, a liberation theologian, or an evangelical - all could conceivably concur.

If Tozer has a point, then it becomes imperative for me to listen to you (the "I and thou" of Buber's existentialism). Reflexively, it is imperative for you to listen to me. If the most important thing about you is what comes into your mind when you think about God, then in order for me to know what's most important about you, I need to listen to what you say about God. I need to hear what comes into your mind on this topic. I cannot learn what is most important about you if I don't listen to what's in your mind about the divine.

Even if you don't believe any god exists, I must listen. Even if you think he's vastly different than I do, I need to listen. Even if you think he's horrible, mean, unfair, uncaring, uninvolved, I need to listen in order to know what's most important about you. But not merely listening in order to effectively shoot down your points - really listening.

If I jump right in and disagree (to "set you straight"), I don't listen. And then I don't learn the most important part of you. If I argue, get defensive, get offensive, or otherwise shut down what you have to say on this, I won't know you. No, I must listen, whether I think you're right or wrong or somewhere in between. It's the only way to value the You that you are. I would hope that you would listen, too, in order to know the Me that is me.

I want to know you. Specificallly, I want to know what's most important about you. Shutting up and listening is not my natural bent, but it is imperative for me to do so, if Tozer's got it right.

I also want you to know the God I know. I do think He's awesome. But I know that if I don't value you and learn what's most important about you, I'd be conveying to you something about God that isn't true - that He's not a listener.

You Can Tell Me You're "Fine"

We all know the routine. It has become instinctive. We meet, then I say, "How are you?" and then you say "Fine." No matter what, even if your house just exploded and your cat ate your smartphone, things are "fine." Sometimes when we're feeling extra-cordial, we flip the script to the same effect.

This routine has birthed a secondary routine - now we knowingly fuss about the fact that we say "fine" when we don't mean it. We "solve" the problem by acknowledging it, talking about it, fussing about it to one another, but then the very next morning, "How are you?" ... "Fine." Then later, we knowingly fuss again, but then the very next day after that, we recite our routine again perfectly. (By now, we are assuming that everyone who says "fine" is lying, oddly enough.)

However, you can tell me you're "fine." Go right ahead. I won't bat an eye, I won't wink and assume you're not fine, and I won't fuss. If you want to tell me you're fine, please do.

You are in control of what you tell me about yourself. No amount of fussing about faux "fines" gives me the right to demand from you how you're really doing. My wink and nod that "fine" might be "awful" does not obligate you to tell me anything other than what you want me to know. Unless we are tight friends who owe each other unfiltered truth by mutual permission, you owe me nothing other than what you want me to know.

If you want me to think you're fine, no matter if you are or aren't, then tell me you're fine. I'll take it at face value because that's what you're telling me to do. You may not want me meddling into the sore spots of your life. You may not be ready yet to talk about something unpleasant. I may not be the right person to listen to you. This might not be the right time or place. You might not even be able to say, "I'm not fine, but let's talk about it later." (But, if you want to say that, then say that.)

I don't have to be the one who knows, who listens, who talks about it, or who's on the inside. I'm willing to be, but I don't have to be. How you're doing is not about me - it's about you. So, unless you're one of my very few tight friends who owe me bare honesty, you can tell me "fine" no matter what, and I will treat you as if everything is fine ... because that's what you're telling me to do. It might even be therapeutic if I treat you as if things are fine - I don't know, and I'm not expert enough to tell you otherwise.

If you say "fine" but you secretly want me to doubt you and dig, I probably won't. It's not fair to everyone else to assume that you're not telling me how you want me to treat you. Unless we're tight or unless I have sufficient probable cause, I won't dig. I'm simple that way - if you tell me not to dig, I usually put down my shovel.

For your sake, however, have at least two people in your life (other than your spouse) who never put down their shovels, and who you will tell the truth to, regardless. Have two or more tight friends that when they ask, "How are you?", you tell them the truth no matter what. It doesn't have to be me, and honestly, I can't be that person for the lot of you. For your health and so that you never swim the ocean alone, have those people in your life, and never, ever tell them "fine" unless it's true.

Your Christmas Gift

For Christmas, I promise to not give you a present instead of love. I can't give presents to everyone, but I won't give anyone a gift as a substitute for showing love. I won't try to buy anyone's appreciation by giving a gift wrapped with expectations. Every gift will be an expression of love.

For Christmas, I promise to not assess anyone by the gift they give me (or don't give me). What you give, how you give, to whom you give is your business. You owe me nothing. My kind of Christmas doesn't obligate you to anything whatsoever. Giving you the Gift of Obligation to give me something is no gift at all.

For Christmas, I promise to never say "Merry Christmas" without thinking about the birth of Christ. You don't have to believe what I believe, and I won't foist my beliefs on you. I won't constantly remind you what Christmas means to me. But I will be thinking about it ... I promise. I think it's a wonderful idea that God became man.

For Christmas, I promise to show you respect for whatever holidays you celebrate. That's the beauty of holidays. They are times of special remembrance for important events or values that are personally held by a group of people. Respect is one of the values Christmas brings to my mind, so that's what I want to give you. In fact, I'd like to learn more about your holidays, if you don't mind. I hope your holidays are filled with family, friends, and celebration.

For Christmas, I promise to not let my "bah, humbug" tendencies ruin your day. There's a lot about this time of year that I don't like, but there's so much more about this season that people do like that I promise to keep my inner Scrooge to remain inner.

For Christmas, I promise to not ask you what you got for Christmas. But I to promise to ask if you had a good Christmas (or holiday). By asking you what presents you got, I only reinforce the "getting" aspect. I won't even ask what you gave, because that becomes a backhanded way to do the same thing. What I do care about is if you had a good time with family and friends, or by having alone time. I do care if this time we take our focus off of the grind was meaningful, joyful, restorative, and healing. Did you laugh? Did you celebrate? Were there things to be thankful for? How did things go with that friend after the argument you got into over the summer? Did the grandparents get to see the grandkids? How's your dad's eyesight doing?

For Christmas, I promise to remember that this is a hard time for some. This might be the first Christmas since someone close passed away. Christmas may drudge up horrible memories. Christmas may end up being a lonely time. I get that. I've felt that a few Christmases. I wish I could give you the gift of something other, but what I can do is try to be aware if this ends up being less fun for you.

For Christmas, I promise to look forward to seeing you again. Maybe it'll just be a few days until you get back from Springfield (every state seems to have one). Maybe it will be months from now. Maybe years. But Christmas reminds me of the vast array of people we've met and how much we would love to see you again (including those I need to heal a hurt relationship with). We've moved enough to collect a pile of friends who we may never see again. I still want to, and Christmas makes me want to all the more.

Handling the Intersection

I haven't ever hurt myself running with scissors, so I assume I can just run faster with them and be OK. I haven't gotten fired yet for a blog post, so ... let's talk about the Muslim issue.

Of course, there is no singular "Muslim issue." We could talk about theology, we could talk about general immigration, we could talk about the Syrian refugees, we could talk about ISIS, or some other related issue. And whatever conclusions might be drawn about one of these aren't necessarily transferable to any of the others. It's like saying let's discuss "the Christian issue" or "the political issue" or "the baseball issue" - too many variables to reduce the topic down to one, digestible idea.

I have opinions on each of these and more, but it's not my goal here to explain my views or in any way tell you what you should conclude. My point here is to challenge you who are followers of Jesus on how you come to those conclusions.

I have seen Christians respond in such a broad spectrum of ways that it appears we're reading out of two different Bibles (or more). Not to critique any particular view, I've seen people who want to shut and lock the door, others who want people to knock and know the secret password before getting in, others who want to cautiously hold the door open, and still others who want to leave the door wide open. (The "door" refers to anything from immigration to theological discourse.)

I offer the following thoughts to consider in order to determine what you think about the various ways Muslims intersect your life.

A follower's primary citizenship is in heaven, not the U.S. As you sort through these issues, remember your primary citizenship. We should operate without wavering according to that Kingdom, and then according to the nation only where it doesn't conflict. How do the ways that are specific to the Kingdom of God determine what we should think, say, and do? What did Jesus teach about that Kingdom? 

There certainly is room for loyalty to one's nation, but at least we should be able to agree that Jesus taught us to seek the Kingdom before everything else. Not only ask yourself what are the attributes and ways of the Kingdom, but how do I seek the Kingdom - even pursue it - by how I think through these issues? How am I seeking the Kingdom first by trying to figure out what to think and do?

This also means that we can have two goals - the goal as a follower of Christ and the goal as a citizen of this country. Those two goals may not end up being the same thing! Believe it or not, it's OK to have dissonance here. In fact, conflating the two ideas prevents us from thinking through either one rightly. However, the goal as a follower must have priority over the goal as a citizen wherever they are different.

The Great Commission is our main mission. Jesus was very clear in His post-resurrection appearances that what He wants us to do as first priority is to make disciples from every nation for Him. It's also clear that His model for doing so is through loving relationships. How we decide our response to issues related to Muslims must be for the purpose of achieving our highest task - making disciples from all nations through relationships. What will best help us progress in that mission over the long haul? Over the short haul?

Would Jesus do what I'm doing, say what I'm saying? This is kind of the inverse of WWJD. If I step out of myself and listen to what I just said or watch what I just did, can I reasonably conclude that Jesus would have said or done that? That's what being a follower of someone means - following what they would think, say, and do. If I cannot imagine Jesus doing something (without twisting Scripture), then what possible justification can there be for me to do so?

What is the right amount of risk? There is risk, no matter what. There are innocuous risks, such as leaving one's comfort zone to befriend (or even just coexist with) a Muslim - doing so runs the risk of having some of your assumptions challenged. On the extreme end, there are life-and-death risks posed by the radicalized. Of course, risks of this level are found in many corners of our lives, not just the jihadist corner. 

There are risks from little to small. What place should that play? Is avoiding risk what a follower should do? Is throwing caution to the wind what a follower should do? Jesus and the apostles certainly risked their lives at times, and certainly avoided danger at other times. We are called to be willing to give our lives for our King and for the Gospel, but how does that rightly translate to these issues? Furthermore, what risk do I end up imposing on others? No matter what you decide, you are assigning some form of risk to someone else - either to a refugee or to a neighbor or to the stability of another nation or to some other group. For the follower, though, we cannot make personal safety an idol - that cannot be our non-negotiable factor.

Blow people's minds by being humble. This addresses more of our manner than the process we use to make up our minds. Engage in disagreements about these important, complex issues with kindness. It's not easy for anyone to know what to think, and engaging in ugly exchanges is rarely the Jesus way. You're in process, others are in process, and kindness fosters that process for everyone. Blow their minds! Once it turns ugly, people dig in their heels, and positions become unnecessarily fixed. Try listening to the other person's views, ask questions, refrain from telling them what they should think, and then lay out what you're thinking. Be humble enough to be able to learn from someone else. For issues so complex, it's OK to change your mind.

In case you weren't sure, you don't know everything there is to know about this subject. You don't have all knowledge and there are angles you have not considered, yet. Without omniscience, our only choice is to assume a posture of being able to learn and ... yikes ... change.

I have opinions on most of these issues, and as I discuss them with people (not always following my own advice), I have frequently faced worthy ideas that draw me in one direction or another. That's good! These issues are too important and too complex to firmly hold conclusions without room to adapt to new information. We don't have to have firm opinions.

What we can be solid about is determining now which methods we will use to seek out those conclusions. We can be firm about the "rules of engagement" we will use to think these things through, such as the suggestions I've made here. These methods don't force one conclusion or another, but do set the parameters and how those (flexible) conclusions can be reached. Perhaps there are other rubrics even more appropriate than these.

A "Christian answer" cannot be reliably achieved apart from "Christian ways" of thinking about the question.

Of Course Water is Wet

Dear Christian, just stop it. Please.

Stop expecting non-Christians to act like Christians. They're not, and so there's no sense in expecting them to. Christians are at times everything from flabbergasted to offended at how non-Christian a non-Christian is. That's like being surprised that water is wet. Worse, there are times when the Christian then responds negatively (and ironically, in an unchristian manner) with criticisms, insults, arguments, and judgments. Not every Christian and certainly not all the time, but far more than the absolute zero that it ought to be.

First and foremost, Christians aren't always better behaved. All of us know non-Christians with a more pleasant demeanor, a more consistent lifestyle, and more respectable ethics than some Christians. So, expecting a non-Christian to act like a Christian is not always desirable. People can wave a Christian banner to promote very unchristian attitudes and ways.

Beyond that, it makes no sense at all to expect a non-Christian to talk like a Christian. Many Christians try to "tame the tongue" as Scripture teaches, and thereby have a higher standard than the common base. But what kind of logic concludes we should hold someone who doesn't embrace Scripture up to a Scriptural standard? Furthermore, Christians can end up having their own lingo that eventually becomes unintelligible to someone outside the tribe. Rather than expect others to pick up our lingo, we are the ones that need to make sure we're speaking their language. Even demanding a clerk wish you a "Merry Christmas" is demanding them to speak like your tribe does.

Neither should we expect non-Christians to have Christians thoughts and values. There's no need to claim here that these are in any way superior, or even exclusive - it is enough to say that they are characteristic. There are thoughts and values that are particularly consonant with Christianity. Expecting non-Christians to have them and share them is unreasonable. We quite often do share thoughts and values with non-Christians, but becoming critical of someone for not having them oddly enough shows a kind of inferior value!

Likewise, we cannot expect Christian actions from non-Christians. This includes lifestyles, sexuality, activities, entertainment, child-rearing, marriage, and so on. Again, Christians aren't always the best examples of these, but why are we flabbergasted or offended when a non-Christian acts like he's not a Christian? We should only be offended when a Christian acts like he's not a Christian. Of course non-Christians act like non-Christians! (Which, by the way, is not always bad!)

Christian theology says that those who are "in Christ" have the Holy Spirit at work in them, transforming them over the rest of their lives. That means that we're being made better than we each used to be, but it doesn't mean we're necessarily better than anyone else. It also means that for those who do not have the Holy Spirit at work in them, we have no basis to expect them to live as if they did.

The only way to have that kind of expectation is to have the wrong Gospel. The wrong Gospel says that you need to clean up your life and live up to a certain standard in order to be acceptable to God (and His followers). Wrong! But it's what we can communicate to non-Christians when we expect them to live up to some Christian ideal or standard. We end up preaching the wrong Gospel (and adding in judgmentalism for good measure). If you boil down criticisms of Christians to their core, we're quite often criticized for either expecting those outside the tribe to act like those inside the tribe or for acting like we're not inside the tribe, either.

The true Gospel is that because of Christ, God accepts us in our most non-Christian states. Period. Yes, He has a certain standard for His followers for speaking, thinking, valuing, and living, but He's the one who accepts us before we do, and then He's the one who transforms us to become more like His ideals.

So, dear Christian, just stop. Stop preaching the wrong Gospel by inadvertently telling people they need to make themselves good enough for you. That's not even close to the Gospel.