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.
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Matter
What’s the matter? What’s the matter? What is the matter?Matter has weight, matter tips the scales, matter is heavy … what.is.the.matter?Is what is heavy here heavy There?Does what breaks my back here break my back There?Does a high price tag here convert to a high price tag There?There … There … There in the Kingdom of God?
Is the statue here in the center of the Kingdom of Me the same statue There in the Kingdom of God?
Does the Kingdom of my Calendar here have any appointments There?
Does the Kingdom of Career here have any job openings There?
Does the Kingdom of GPA here have any scholarships There?
Does the Kingdom of Skin here sell any toothpaste There?
Does the Kingdom of Substances here have any substance There?
But Jesus says that There is now Here.
“The Kingdom of God is near,” Jesus says.
“The Kingdom of God has come upon you,” Jesus says.
Jesus tells the Kingdom of Sin, “An hour is coming and now is…”
The Apostle declares that our citizenship is not here but There … if you are in the King of the Kingdom.
Switch your perspective - Once we are There, There is now Here and here is now there.
“In Christ” doesn’t take us There … “In Christ” brings There Here.
Is what is heavy Here in the Kingdom of God heavy there in Kingdom of Man?
Does what breaks my back Here in the Kingdom of God break my back there in Kingdom of Ego?
Does what breaks the King’s heart Here in the Kingdom of God break my heart there in the Kingdom of Self Righteousness?
Is the “ooh” and “ahh” of the angels Here in the Kingdom of God the “ooh” and “ahh” of the Church there in the Kingdom of Couches?
Is the Treasure Here in the Kingdom of God worth selling everything there in Kingdom of Brand Names?
What’s the matter? What is the matter on earth as it is in heaven?
With my feet planted firmly Here in Your Kingdom, give me this day my daily bread.
With my feet planted firmly Here in Your Kingdom, lead me not into temptation.
With my feet planted firmly Here in Your Kingdom, forgive me my sins … as I forgive those who have sinned against me there ... in the Kingdom of Me.
What’s the matter? What’s the matter? What is the matter?
(Slideshow here)
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
The Danger of No Danger
For those who are very observant, you might have noticed that there was someone in the pulpit other than me this last Sunday. Pastor Luther from Bridge of Hope and I will do a "pulpit swap" once or twice a year, which usually brings a whole slew of good things for both churches, and frankly, for both Luther and me.
When I arrived at BoH Sunday morning, I stepped into the men's Sunday school. They were talking about keeping praise vibrant in our lives, talking through all the things that God has done for us - especially good things that we don't deserve. One of the points that was discussed, one that seemingly everyone in the room except me identified with, is the miracle of waking up alive, considering all the drugs, violence, and crime that went on the night before.
Most, or likely all, of these men have extraordinarily checkered pasts. Bridge of Hope exists primarily to reach those society has written off - drug abusers, drug dealers, prostitutes, gang members, petty thieves, and even violent criminals. Waking up alive beat the odds on many mornings for many of these men, and they keep praise alive by remembering that several times over, they shouldn't even be breathing.
If I stretch my imagination to the limit, I can remember maybe four times when I felt like a beat the odds to still be alive or stay out of jail: as a child with severe asthma, two perilous encounters with drivers driving toward me in my lane of the highway, and goofing around driving as a teenager and almost hitting an elderly man. Even then, I don't think the odds were stacked high against me. I just don't have the context to feel like I'm lucky just to be alive, let alone several times over.
Nor can I identify with a family of dear friends in Kenya who thanked God at least five times in one evening that they finally have electricity to light the one light bulb they have in their house. We have well over 40 bulbs in our house, and I grumble when one of them goes out and I have to walk all the way down into the basement to get its replacement.
Perhaps most of you are similar - very little real sense that being alive is beating the odds, or that a single lit bulb deserves a choir of angels. Some of you could count on one hand the number of times you've had a close brush. A few of you could list dozens of times. But our response should not be that we feel guilty for not having the same dilemma as others. We're not worse, and we're certainly not better, because we've "cheated" death fewer times than they have. Having more light bulbs doesn't make us closer to God.
Rather, we also have something to be grateful for ... that we haven't had repeated brushes with death or jail, that we do have lit rooms. That in itself is a blessing. It is a different form of rescue. God has rescued me, and many of you, from a life that frequently tests our mortality. Those of us in that group have been "saved" from a life of real, frequent casualties.
But we also, then, face a greater danger than darkness, jail, or death - a danger that requires no less of a rescue. We face the danger of complacency, of taking God for granted, of feeling like this relatively safer life isn't a gift of grace, but rather the just rewards of a birthright. Lord, save me from the jaws of temerity!
God has not promised you that you will always be safe from all harm. We will scrape our knees. Some of us will die young. Some of us will suffer disease for years. What he does promise us is that we will always be as safe as he needs us to be for his purposes. God has a purpose for all who call on him, and he will accomplish that purpose. That means that we will always keep us safe enough for him to complete that work. For some great followers past and present around the world, that means that God kept them perfectly safe enough to make it all the way to the stake or firing squad ... in order to accomplish his purpose.
And that's plenty to be thankful for.
It's not just that I'm alive when shouldn't be, but that I don't normally even have to worry about it (when what I deserve is to be constantly running for my life). The more I pursue God's purpose, the more I can rest assured that I will always be exactly as safe as I need to be for him to accomplish his purpose with my life. Or death. He owns both.
When I arrived at BoH Sunday morning, I stepped into the men's Sunday school. They were talking about keeping praise vibrant in our lives, talking through all the things that God has done for us - especially good things that we don't deserve. One of the points that was discussed, one that seemingly everyone in the room except me identified with, is the miracle of waking up alive, considering all the drugs, violence, and crime that went on the night before.
Most, or likely all, of these men have extraordinarily checkered pasts. Bridge of Hope exists primarily to reach those society has written off - drug abusers, drug dealers, prostitutes, gang members, petty thieves, and even violent criminals. Waking up alive beat the odds on many mornings for many of these men, and they keep praise alive by remembering that several times over, they shouldn't even be breathing.
If I stretch my imagination to the limit, I can remember maybe four times when I felt like a beat the odds to still be alive or stay out of jail: as a child with severe asthma, two perilous encounters with drivers driving toward me in my lane of the highway, and goofing around driving as a teenager and almost hitting an elderly man. Even then, I don't think the odds were stacked high against me. I just don't have the context to feel like I'm lucky just to be alive, let alone several times over.
Nor can I identify with a family of dear friends in Kenya who thanked God at least five times in one evening that they finally have electricity to light the one light bulb they have in their house. We have well over 40 bulbs in our house, and I grumble when one of them goes out and I have to walk all the way down into the basement to get its replacement.
Perhaps most of you are similar - very little real sense that being alive is beating the odds, or that a single lit bulb deserves a choir of angels. Some of you could count on one hand the number of times you've had a close brush. A few of you could list dozens of times. But our response should not be that we feel guilty for not having the same dilemma as others. We're not worse, and we're certainly not better, because we've "cheated" death fewer times than they have. Having more light bulbs doesn't make us closer to God.
Rather, we also have something to be grateful for ... that we haven't had repeated brushes with death or jail, that we do have lit rooms. That in itself is a blessing. It is a different form of rescue. God has rescued me, and many of you, from a life that frequently tests our mortality. Those of us in that group have been "saved" from a life of real, frequent casualties.
But we also, then, face a greater danger than darkness, jail, or death - a danger that requires no less of a rescue. We face the danger of complacency, of taking God for granted, of feeling like this relatively safer life isn't a gift of grace, but rather the just rewards of a birthright. Lord, save me from the jaws of temerity!
God has not promised you that you will always be safe from all harm. We will scrape our knees. Some of us will die young. Some of us will suffer disease for years. What he does promise us is that we will always be as safe as he needs us to be for his purposes. God has a purpose for all who call on him, and he will accomplish that purpose. That means that we will always keep us safe enough for him to complete that work. For some great followers past and present around the world, that means that God kept them perfectly safe enough to make it all the way to the stake or firing squad ... in order to accomplish his purpose.
And that's plenty to be thankful for.
It's not just that I'm alive when shouldn't be, but that I don't normally even have to worry about it (when what I deserve is to be constantly running for my life). The more I pursue God's purpose, the more I can rest assured that I will always be exactly as safe as I need to be for him to accomplish his purpose with my life. Or death. He owns both.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
The Insidious Consumer
Jesus, who departed the glory of heaven to add a fully human nature to his fully divine nature, the King of the Kingdom, the one in whom all things are summed up (Col 1:16), once said, "I did not come to be served, but to serve" (Mt 20:28). This just doesn't sound right. Perhaps the teleprompter skipped, because the Son of God doesn't serve the sons of men.
To comprehend this wrong-sounding truth, we have to stand on our heads. It is so upside down that we spill other theology on the floor trying to keep this idea on our plate. But there it is - the Greatest One by every measure chose to serve those who should be serving him.
This same Jesus, then, gathered a group of people called the "Church" to collectively house his Spirit and continue his mission. He trained a handful of men and women, the Twelve with more intensity, and Peter, James, and John with even greater instruction. They were to do what he had done, and to do so in the same way.
Since then, through two millennia, this Church has existed, thrived, suffered, split, healed, taught, mistaught, reformed, loved, hated, started some wars and stopped others, enslaved and broken slavery, and honored and shamed the one who's name they bear. Their constant charge has been to carry on the same mission by the power of the indwelling Spirit. This Church has done great and awful things in pursuit of that mission.
Somewhere along the way, the Church has taken what was rightly upside down and put it back on its feet, making it stand as it ought not to, even though they think it has finally been set right. One day, in some church in some town, there arose the right side up phrase "serve the Church." This phrase then spread to many churches covering the globe.
It sounds so noble, so filled with piety, so ... religious. What a great life's endeavor ... to serve the Church.
But it is right side up when it should be upside down.
We are not called to serve the Church. We, the Church, are called to serve the world. This is upside down, but exactly oriented to the King who came to give his life as a ransom for many. Church is not something to be served, but a living organism designed to do the serving. The Church is a gaggle of servants, gathered to serve. Yes, to serve one another, but also to serve the world.
A right side up Church cannot carry out the upside down mission of its founder. No, we must turn it upside down again ... to be sent into this world not to be served, but to serve.
To comprehend this wrong-sounding truth, we have to stand on our heads. It is so upside down that we spill other theology on the floor trying to keep this idea on our plate. But there it is - the Greatest One by every measure chose to serve those who should be serving him.
This same Jesus, then, gathered a group of people called the "Church" to collectively house his Spirit and continue his mission. He trained a handful of men and women, the Twelve with more intensity, and Peter, James, and John with even greater instruction. They were to do what he had done, and to do so in the same way.
Since then, through two millennia, this Church has existed, thrived, suffered, split, healed, taught, mistaught, reformed, loved, hated, started some wars and stopped others, enslaved and broken slavery, and honored and shamed the one who's name they bear. Their constant charge has been to carry on the same mission by the power of the indwelling Spirit. This Church has done great and awful things in pursuit of that mission.
Somewhere along the way, the Church has taken what was rightly upside down and put it back on its feet, making it stand as it ought not to, even though they think it has finally been set right. One day, in some church in some town, there arose the right side up phrase "serve the Church." This phrase then spread to many churches covering the globe.
It sounds so noble, so filled with piety, so ... religious. What a great life's endeavor ... to serve the Church.
But it is right side up when it should be upside down.
We are not called to serve the Church. We, the Church, are called to serve the world. This is upside down, but exactly oriented to the King who came to give his life as a ransom for many. Church is not something to be served, but a living organism designed to do the serving. The Church is a gaggle of servants, gathered to serve. Yes, to serve one another, but also to serve the world.
A right side up Church cannot carry out the upside down mission of its founder. No, we must turn it upside down again ... to be sent into this world not to be served, but to serve.
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
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.
Wednesday, March 12, 2014
What If?
- What if God really did create everything from nothing some time ago? Would this define my reason for being here? Would this define my relationship with Him? Does it reveal how He feels about me? Does it give Him any authority over me? Does it provide a way for me to participate in the work He is busy doing?
- What if Jesus really is who the New Testament describes? If he is more than a teacher, but actually divine, equal to God the Father but somehow a distinct Person, does that put him in a unique category in the world? If he really has existed from eternity past and was sent to us, does that justify his claim to be our sole means to the Kingdom of God? If he really is "that guy," how should I respond to him?
- What if Jesus really did rise from the dead? If this happened, is what he claimed during his life on earth authenticated? If he defeated death, can he defeat it for me, too? If this miracle really happened, are other miracles possible? Is anything impossible for him?
- What if not doing what is God's will was as sinful as doing what is not God's will? (What if that question made sense?) What if not feeding the hungry was as wrong as murder? What if merely avoiding the big sins was categorically as sinful as not avoiding them? What if "thou shalt" was just as important as "thou shalt not"? What if not being busy with God's mission was as sinful as smoking crack? What if living in the Kingdom meant living like the Kingdom, rather than just avoiding living like the world?
- What if character was more important than accomplishment? What if what people can't really see had more eternal value than the stuff they can see and praise? Am I willing to be ethically unemployed more than I'm willing to be unethically employed? If I valued character over accomplishment, would I ever lie about anything ever again? What if this statement truly had more meaning for me than just a saying that we are all obligated to agree with?
- What if being good was better than being right? Would I rather win a disagreement or bless someone I disagree with? Does it make sense to turn someone away from God by how much I insist on being proven right? What if "truth" was more than just the correctness of facts, but also the attitude with which they are presented?
- What if my every complaint exposed something I need to change about myself? Wouldn't it be neat if my feelings of being annoyed were a clue that there's still something within me that could improve? Wouldn't it be convenient to have a reminder that I'm selfish, I'm proud, I'm argumentative, I'm narrow-minded, I'm inconsiderate, I'm incomplete, and that I make mistakes - some feeling that would remind me of these things?
- What if I didn't deserve any of the good things I have? How would I treat my stuff if I believed it wasn't owed to me? Would I hoard it? Would I refuse to be generous? Would I compare myself to others by how much of it I have? Would I brag about it? Would I define my self-worth from it? Would I forget those who have less (or none) of it?
- What if I really was going to die one day? What if there really was this day when I would stop breathing, and everything about my life would be given a cosmic perspective? Would I value time? Would I spend it like a limited commodity? On my deathbed (assuming there is one, of course), would I care more about how I treated people or about what I've consumed and accumulated? Would my preferred words be "who and how" or "what and how much"? Would Right and Wrong bear any significance if I had only seconds left to breathe the air of this world? What if I knew now that one day I'll be dead? What will I be doing 100 million years from now?
- What if confessing my sin was more curative than revealing only my good attributes? Is it possible that God actually forgives? If God already knows everything, is it possible that admitting it all to Him would benefit my relationship with Him? Even though the other person was wrong (too), if confessing my sin to him was the best road to reconciliation, would I do it? But isn't it a better "witness" to let people think that you think that they think that you think that you have no big flaws? Isn't it just easier to tell everyone you're "fine"?
Or maybe it's just me.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Lord, please don't let me be a slobbering mess
This weekend, I have the staggering privilege of officiating my niece's wedding near Dallas. I've performed a number of weddings - not dozens and dozens, but enough to have a variety of experiences. The level of crying at these weddings has ranged from zero to moderate to the longest snot-rope I've ever seen dangling from anyone's nose, let alone a bride's. My concern this time is whether or not I will keep it all together - this will be the first time I've officiated for a family member, and the first time for someone I once held as a baby.
I remember the first wedding I officiated. I was still in seminary while serving at a church. Two of my close seminary friends got engaged and asked me to do their premarital counseling and officiate their wedding. At first, it was all exciting adventure into new territory and I jumped in with eagerness, a tiny measure of fear, and a paltry sense that I knew what I was doing. But these were two friends also going through seminary, and they graciously empathized all the way.
On the day of the wedding, exactly 5 minutes before we were supposed to walk out into the sanctuary, I realized something I had somehow never thought of before. I can't do this!!! Who am I to declare two people married? Wait a minute ... just because I say a few words and sign a document, poof! my two friends are now suddenly husband and wife? Hocus pocus, abracadabra, Turtle Power! And now they are united in a covenant before God and have a new legal status before the state. I can't do that! That's only for real pastors.
My head spun, I actually checked to see where the exit was, and I started drumming up excuses. Failing to find a good enough excuse, I just walked out there and started what we had planned on. It turned out to be a fun, joyful, and memorable wedding. Not primarily because of me ... which means I succeeded in just kickstarting the ceremonial part of it and then getting out of the way.
Today, this couple has four wonderful, fun-loving kids and are living in Spain serving as missionaries, learning anew how to thrive in a different setting as a family.
Then I mentally run through all the other couples for whom I've had this honor, and I see parents, expecting parents, adoptive parents, and future parents. I see people building a household, involved in their communities, influencing others, and even helping younger couples prepare for marriage. I see them post their joys and challenges online, with snapshots of living life as family.
I'm taking no credit for that - not in the least. Rather, I'm reveling in the amazing privilege it is to stand before a couple and before God and look past the horizon to envision all that can blossom from marriage. The trials, difficulties, and disappointments are all real, but what can multiply from marriage is enough to make a grown man cry. Especially an uncle standing before his niece, a young man (who had better watch his step!), and God.
Maybe I could go for that snot-rope record...
I remember the first wedding I officiated. I was still in seminary while serving at a church. Two of my close seminary friends got engaged and asked me to do their premarital counseling and officiate their wedding. At first, it was all exciting adventure into new territory and I jumped in with eagerness, a tiny measure of fear, and a paltry sense that I knew what I was doing. But these were two friends also going through seminary, and they graciously empathized all the way.
On the day of the wedding, exactly 5 minutes before we were supposed to walk out into the sanctuary, I realized something I had somehow never thought of before. I can't do this!!! Who am I to declare two people married? Wait a minute ... just because I say a few words and sign a document, poof! my two friends are now suddenly husband and wife? Hocus pocus, abracadabra, Turtle Power! And now they are united in a covenant before God and have a new legal status before the state. I can't do that! That's only for real pastors.
My head spun, I actually checked to see where the exit was, and I started drumming up excuses. Failing to find a good enough excuse, I just walked out there and started what we had planned on. It turned out to be a fun, joyful, and memorable wedding. Not primarily because of me ... which means I succeeded in just kickstarting the ceremonial part of it and then getting out of the way.
Today, this couple has four wonderful, fun-loving kids and are living in Spain serving as missionaries, learning anew how to thrive in a different setting as a family.
Then I mentally run through all the other couples for whom I've had this honor, and I see parents, expecting parents, adoptive parents, and future parents. I see people building a household, involved in their communities, influencing others, and even helping younger couples prepare for marriage. I see them post their joys and challenges online, with snapshots of living life as family.
I'm taking no credit for that - not in the least. Rather, I'm reveling in the amazing privilege it is to stand before a couple and before God and look past the horizon to envision all that can blossom from marriage. The trials, difficulties, and disappointments are all real, but what can multiply from marriage is enough to make a grown man cry. Especially an uncle standing before his niece, a young man (who had better watch his step!), and God.
Maybe I could go for that snot-rope record...
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