Blind Path

Last week, I attended a retreat for a non-profit organization I serve on the board with, called Hungry 4 Him. We exist to partner with those who serve vulnerable children, which to date for us has meant orphans in Western Kenya. The Board meets in person every year or so, and online the rest of the year. This particular meeting also included a retreat, led by a licensed counselor who also conducts outdoors-themed retreats.

Our goal for the retreat was to focus on trusting God more. This involved several discussions of various passages as well as some outdoors activities - rock-climbing and other exercises. I was not physically well enough to do the rock climbing, but I was able to participate in another trust exercise. Some of us were blindfolded and the rest of us helped guide the blind along a rather uneven path, which lots of rocks, branches, level changes, and a drop off to one side.

So I guided another board member mostly by voice, and a little by touch, to navigate successfully down the path. There were quite a few places where an ankle could get seriously turned, but we made it just fine. Then we switched roles. However, it was my core muscles that were in pain - the very muscles one uses by instinct if they start to stumble. One wrong move, and I'd be racked with pain. But we went for it.

My guide used more touch than I had provided, which I needed. It was difficult to trust someone to go forward, but we worked it, getting over rocks, staying away from the ledge, and avoiding low branches. I was taking very small steps, but all in the right direction. I was surprised when the said we had made it - it seemed too short of a walk. But after lifting the blindfold, sure enough, we were back where we started.

Here's what struck me: I looked back at the path I had just navigated. I couldn't believe it! It looked far more perilous than how it felt. I navigated that? How could I do that? I could barely walk an uneven path that day by sight, and I had gotten through a somewhat narrow, variegated path with big rocks and a steep ledge. But because I was not allowed to see and my guide gave me what I needed to go forward, I made it through a path fraught with more dangers than I knew.

And so the lesson about the Christian life: We are mostly blind to all that goes on in God's plan and the heavenly realms. God intentionally prevents us from knowing all that endangers us, as an act of grace. And He guides us - by His voice and by touch - to take very small steps, but all in the right direction. Sometimes, it is difficult to trust someone to go forward. He allows us to navigate situations fraught with more dangers than we realize in order to progress to our destination. When the veil is lifted, we will be able to look back and see exactly what He's taken us through. We'll be surprised when we hear we have made it - it will seem too short of a walk.

For a Feeling

I mentioned in this column last November my fascination of how much time and money we spend on sports for the main purpose of feeling something specific. That's really why we pour so much into sports - so that we will feel something. For most of us, that's our main takeaway from sports. In that article, I also mentioned why I didn't think that was necessarily a bad thing. We give sports so much because we want to feel something specific.

The same thing is generally true about most of life. We work in our jobs to feel something (security, success, worth, significance). We get married because we want to feel something (loved, safe, known). We watch movies, go on vacation, and have hobbies to feel something. People abuse drugs to feel something ... or to feel nothing. We choose our politics because of how we want to feel (and this year, "feel" is part of a prominent campaign slogan). We have oomph in our activities because we so strongly demand to feel something specific.

Our faith activities, no matter how noble we want to be, are often in pursuit of a feeling just as much. Gathering together on a Sunday morning, being in a Bible study, having Quiet Time (or not having Quiet Time), participating in (or arguing about) music, volunteering with the kids, bringing a crib to a family in need, sewing dresses for orphans ... let's face it ... we do these things at least in part in order to feel something in particular. Perhaps we want to feel something noble (obedient, faithful, helpful, closeness to God, purification after confessing sin) or perhaps we want to feel something a little more self-centered (significance, heroism, superiority, self-righteous), but we definitely look forward to this activity producing that feeling.

Feelings are a big motivator in every aspect of our lives, including how we live out our faith. This is true whether we want to admit it or not.

It's true (I most firmly believe), and furthermore, I believe it's unavoidable. It's not even necessarily wrong.

If I'm right that this is unavoidable, rather than deny it, let's embrace it. You can confess it with me, "Much of my motivation to do anything is so that I will feel something in particular." Denying this entraps us in a loop of continually denying what is universally true, and as long as we're in this loop, we have trouble making real progress.

Let's admit that we're moving mountains in order to feel something, stop long enough to evaluate what feelings we're chasing, and then assess which of those feelings are futile to chase. Or even which of those feelings are counterproductive and even harmful to chase. What feelings, then, should I be chasing instead? What do I need to do to chase those feelings? Am I willing for God to be the only truly fulfillment of the feelings He wants me to have?

In the West, we fancy ourselves thinking, rational beings, motivated by what's smart and logical. (That's how we want to feel, anyway.) However, we want to feel! How we spend money proves it. Even "scientific" shows on TV are produced in a way to make the audience feel something. Don't fancy yourself more like Spock than you truly are. Embrace that you're motivated by chasing feelings, and then work on which feelings you want to pursue.

What Problem Are You Trying to Solve?

No matter what plans I take into Kenya, they get changed. I expect it, I'm used to it, and I usually don't let it stress me. It's no one's fault. Rather, it's just the nature of doing work there - there's no way to anticipate in advance what the needs and circumstances will be exactly. So, we go in with a plan that is really just to give us a point to depart from.

This most recent trip, however, had one of the more demanding last minute changes. Again, no complaints, but it required the most radical adjustments so far, and it meant the first week would be incredibly hectic and the second week would be a bit more relaxed. But it was in the middle of that hectic week that I kept turning the same question over and over in my head:

What problem are you trying to solve?

Because I was so short for time, having to jettison every bit of unnecessary weight on this storm-tossed ship of a week, choosing between "mostly necessary" and "absolutely necessary" (since "optional" had already long been tossed overboard), I spun around this question night after night. Make sure you're trying to solve the right problem before you expend what little personal resources remain.

I could be trying to solve any number of problems:

• College credit for 30 or so students as part of their degree program
• Lack of robust collaboration between two organizations doing similar work
• Large scale orphaning
• Systemic poverty
• Lack of rich training materials
• Colleagues with serious illness
• Lack of clean water
• Feelings of personal significance
• The need to "make a difference"
• Faithlessness

And so on. Any number of problems I could be trying to solve. 

I wanted to dig deep into my own motivations - not just the motives on the surface that are easy to identify, but way down in the core of what my motivation was to put myself through these challenges. If, for example, the problem I was trying to solve was personal significance, then I'm wasting time, money, comfort, and sweat. If I'm trying to solve systemic poverty, then I'll never make a serious dent in that problem. It matters what problem you're trying to solve - the deep, secret motives of the heart.

What problems are you trying to solve? Are you trying to solve the problem of personal significance? Are you trying to solve the "problem" of non-upperclass-ed-ness? Are you trying to solve the problem of illiteracy or human trafficking or discrimination? Are you trying to solve the problem of someone else's behavior? Which problem(s) are you really trying to solve? Because it matters. 

If we're not trying to solve the problems we should, we're wasting our time and limited resources. Some problems aren't worth solving. Other problems are enormous, but still worth our efforts. Some problems are exactly what we should be solving.

Asking the question this way ("what problem am I trying to solve?") is not a radical departure from other ways to examine one's life. However, I find the particular wording of the question helps me to think about my life from a different perspective than other questions of self-examination. Perhaps that's only the case for people like me who fancy themselves problem-solvers. Maybe the better question for you is more interpersonal. For example: "Who am I trying to benefit?"

No matter which question you ask, this is the kind of question well worth asking. We have exactly one of these lives to live. I sure want to spend my trying to solve the right problems.

We Don't Have to be Involved

We don't have to be involved.

We really don't. In fact, it would be easier if we weren't. Besides, we have our own problems to worry about, let alone someone else's messes.

In my trip to Kenya, I visited a man named Obedi. Obedi is a former student of mine at the seminary in Ahero, and now is a pastor at a large church in Kisumu. He was always a diligent student with a contagious smile. His congregation loves him and his family, which includes a couple of small children. But Obedi has a heart condition and will not survive the year unless he raises $25,000 to have a surgery done in India. There are no specialists for this in Kenya. They are trying to raise the funds, but fundraising on this scale rarely succeeds. It was hard to look in his eyes, shake his hand, and try to offer support and encouragement, although my discomfort is minuscule compared to what he's facing.

I didn't have to be involved in Obedi's life. I didn't have to go over there and teach, and even going over there, I could have taught without getting involved. I didn't have to stay in touch with him over the years through social media. I could have lived my life quite nicely without getting caught up in his life-and-death daily existence.

I've told many of you about Giorgia, a young woman in Italy, who just had a lung transplant. We've been friends with her family for 25 years, even before she was born. We've visited them at different stages in her life, and each stage was punctuated with breathing treatments and struggles. This last trip, I couldn't visit her because she was in the ICU. We didn't have to get involved. We didn't have to find ways to play with her when she was little in ways that would not take the wind out of her. We didn't have to write her emails when she had to stay in the hospital. We're not heroes and we're not the solution to any of these problems.

Giorgia died last week - the day after I left. And we didn't have to get tangled up with her and her grieving family.

Of course, there are those in deep poverty in Kenya without clean water. There's nothing about our lives that forces us to arrange for dozens of households to get clean water. If this never happened, we never would have heard about it, and our lives would have continued on without a wrinkle.

We choose to get involved in things we don't have to. Not just Lynne and me, but all of us. We choose this. And it would be easier if we didn't. But it wouldn't be better.

Why not just send money?

"Why not just send money?" I get this question a lot. I ask this question a lot - especially while I'm there. Usually on the third or fourth day of the trip, still adjusting from jetlag ... why didn't I just send money?!?!

This is my sixth trip to Kenya. Each trip has a high cost: a few thousand dollars, back-to-back 9-hour flights each way, social unrest in country, somewhat uncomfortable living conditions, heat, bathrooms that require great care and balance, vigilance to keep hydrated with filtered water, and for me, trouble sleeping and other physical challenges. No air conditioning, no ice, language barriers, and at least once during the trip, chicken droppings somewhere in the bedroom. Of course, there are the weeks apart from Lynne and limited communications. It consumes not only the two weeks there, but several weeks of preparation and at least a week afterwards to recover and sort through the tasks that have piled up.

Are all the various costs worth it? Wouldn't it be more cost effective to just send money for needs that they have? My best answer is: the costs are very likely worth it. But I can't completely quantify it.

There are both objective and subjective reasons why I continue to believe so.

Objectively, there are some resources that we have been blessed with that we can turn around and share with those in Kenya, such as seminary-level education. That's something they have scarce little of, and it's too a great privilege to not share with others. I don't have to be an exceptional seminary-level teacher in order to share that blessing.

Furthermore, some of their leaders need encouragement or a break. Having a guest teacher allows them some down time, a chance to receive instead of give, a chance to catch up on student records or grading, and so on.

Considering that a seminary multiplies the good that the church can bring to a society, these are investments that pay good dividends. I taught my students Leviticus in 2006, and still graduates can explain how it benefits their current ministries.

One of our projects this year is to train and equip one of the villages to use water filtration systems. The good folks there have all the will, smarts, ability to run this program, but someone has to acquire, deliver, and initially train them for these systems. We've got to send someone over to do this - just sending the kits and some written instructions will not create a successful implementation. But once we deliver and train, then we can eventually pull back and simply provide the kits. They can take it from there. How much money is a million gallons of clean water worth? How about 30 million gallons? That's the capacity we're bringing over in just this first delivery. Worth every penny.

Just sending money cannot meet needs like these. We do need to send money to resource the Kenyans for things they are far more qualified to do than we are, such as classroom teaching of the orphans, construction in the Kenyan way, and training school teachers (our teaching methods don't always translate well).

But the Kenyans will tell you why they think it's worth it, and their reasons are far more subjective. We simply have a hard time comprehending how valuable the ministry of presence is. They will tell you over and over again that they'd rather have a visitor for two weeks than the money it took to get that person there. Visitors, especially those who visit several times, can do wonders to remind them that they are not forgotten, they are not alone, and they are loved. We are doing life with them, not doing things for them or to them. It conveys the fundamental truth that they are valuable primarily because they are created in the image of God, no less than anyone else, regardless of life circumstance.

Yes, we do projects when we're there, but none of the projects seem to be as valuable as spending time with our friends in Kenya. Which means that task-oriented people like me need to keep reminding themselves to put the project aside and spend time with people. Talk with them, listen to them, laugh together, embrace their hurts and share your own, learn some of their words, sing their songs, and just be there in their space with them.

Sometime between the fourth day and the last few days of each trip, I am reminded again why it's all worth it. And as much as I want to be back home again, I do have to peel myself away, too. (And then that's followed by a couple of months of "I'm never going back" and then later "I can't wait to get over there again.")

Neurotheology

I’ve written a few times recently about how brain science informs us about issues related to discipleship and compassion. We’re learning how trauma affects the brain at a physiological level, explaining some of the difficulties children who’ve been through trauma have in regulating their behavior (which can be misinterpreted as sinful defiance). We’ve learned that the brain are also altered by repeated lies about one’s worth - flat out lies can damage your brain.

What about on the positive side? So far, we’ve looked at some negative impacts on the brain, but what about good things? Are there ways to positively affect the brain particularly in ways that relate to matters of faith?

The answer is not only “yes,” but “amazingly so!”

There is a branch of brain science called Neurotheology (there are also other names for it). One of the primary researchers is Andrew Newberg. Researchers in this field are not advocating for any particular religion or religious tradition, but examining the impact on the brain of religious practices - even practices that many Christians may object to. In other words, they are not trying to prove anything religious, but to describe the physiological impact of various religious practices.

What research is showing is that the kinds of things God calls us to do actually have a positive impact on the brain. The practices we typically call spiritual disciplines contribute to a healthy brain - practices like prayer, meditation (e.g. meditating on God’s Word, but also non-Christian practices of meditation), simplicity, memorization (e.g. of Scripture), community, and so on.

We often look to the spiritual disciplines as things we do to have some sort of direct impact - I pray to get answers or feel closer to God, I meditate to learn and understand, I practice simplicity to have less stress and more margin, and so on. The trouble is that if I fail to see those direct benefits, I soon fall out of the practice of spiritual disciplines. Why keep doing it if I’m not seeing the results I expect in a timely fashion? I have other things to do.

But perhaps we’ve been completely underestimating the value of the spiritual disciplines! Not to take away one bit from the direct benefits, but it’s completely possible that God encourages us to practice these disciplines because He, the creator of the brain, knows that these practices contribute to healthier brains! Perhaps He wants us to practice the spiritual disciplines for the additional, indirect, physiological benefits that come with the disciplines. He would also know that healthier brains are part of healthier lives, choices, attitudes, and practices.

It’s amazing to me that God directs us to do something that brain science is discovering to be healthy for our lives at a physiological level. Why wouldn’t He? Why wouldn’t the manufacturer give instructions on how to keep the product in good repair? And that’s just the brain - it’s quite possible that there are many other physiological benefits to the habits God teaches us to have.

Communion with God is vital for the spiritual life of a Christian, and the spiritual disciplines are time-tested habits to foster that closeness. But it very well may be that the disciplines are also intended to make our lives better by making our brains better. And inasmuch as non-Christian traditions practice the same disciplines or reasonable facsimiles, it stands to reason that they would also see some of the same physiological benefits. God causes it to rain on those who do not follow Christ just like He causes it to rain on those who do.

If you have fallen out of the habits or have grown stale in them, reconsider what God’s goals may be. It’s not always for a mountaintop experience - changing the oil and rotating the tires rarely is, but it sure makes the drive better and last longer.

Daniel 2016

Last year, we went through the book of Daniel together, and we paid particular attention to a few recurring truths about Daniel:

• God specifically gifted Daniel (and his friends) in ways that would help others flourish.
• Daniel used his giftedness diligently to make his (pagan) boss, the king, very successful.
• Repeatedly, God elevated Daniel further into the pagan structure to have even greater influence on the pagan culture.

We also noted that God's sovereignty extends over all kings and all kingdoms. He even allowed Nebuchadnezzar to desecrate the temple in Jerusalem and take His people captive, but note well, by means of His sovereignty over both nations in order to accomplish His purposes on earth.

How, then, does Daniel inform the ugly, confusing election season of 2016? As much as I detest the phrase "the evangelical vote," this election cycle has sharply divided evangelicals more than I ever recall, so are there lessons here that we can collectively hold?

First, we must remember that the God who was sovereign over kings and kingdoms in Daniel's day is the same God today with the same sovereignty and the same End Game. No matter who is elected, no matter what they do, no matter how much they embrace or how far they depart from God's wisdom, He is still sovereign. Completely. And with that sovereignty, He's still playing to that End Game. No matter how involved you might be in the political process, He is involved completely.

Second, and closely related to the first, is that things may look like they are completely under the influence of those who deny God His rightful place, but that doesn't mean we're "losing." Let there be no confusion - I do not use the terms "win" and "lose" politically. In no way do I suggest one candidate or party is this "winning" that I'm referring to. Daniel's context had no sense of this. I'm speaking in terms of those who follow God, and the feeling that we're "losing" if unbelievers gain more power and influence. But that feeling is a false one - God steadily marches toward His purpose through horrible and wonderful leaders alike. Daniel wasn't losing, and neither are we.

Third, no matter who our leaders are or what kind of government looms over us, we have the same charge as Daniel. Be God's people without compromise, apology, or unnecessary contention. Use your gifts for the welfare of the culture. Daniel did not draw the line at losing his culture. He drew the line only around dilemmas of loyalty, and then he drew the line definitively. He used his God-given gifts to help a pagan culture prosper up until the point of loyalty to God. But at that point, he did not compromise even under threat of certain death. His contemporary wrote, "Seek the welfare of the city," referring to that pagan city of Babylon - seek the welfare of Babylon (http://ref.ly/Jer29.7)! You have been gifted by God to cause others to flourish ... whether they follow God or not. Draw the line at the right place.

The church can be the church regardless of government. The church must be the church regardless of government, or it's not the church! No matter what happens politically, the church must love God, neighbor, and "enemy"; the church must hold up God's truth without adding to it or taking away from it; the church must seek justice and humbly serve the vulnerable; and the church must be willing to walk into the lion's den rather than compromise her loyalty (but the church must never confuse the lion's den with losing the perch of cultural dominance).

I will not suggest how you should vote. I won't even try to guilt you into voting or being involved politically. I will, however, echo Jesus' words that you seek first His Kingdom.