The Action of an Attitude

"Boy, I really worshiped God yesterday."

What images immediately come to mind about what actually went on yesterday? What action? What location? What day? What really went on? The most common response is likely that this person was in a Sunday morning worship service, and the music being sung and played was especially moving in some way. And there's nothing particularly wrong with that. But it is probably the image most people envision in response to this statement.

We know well that "worship" is not equivalent to "music." (Even knowing that, we still often use the word "worship" to refer specifically to worship music, and then usually in the context of a Sunday morning gathering.) But even understanding this, though, some would say that although it's not the music, it is the emotions behind the music: the standing, the hand raising ... you know, really feeling it. That's worship - when you really feel it. And some people really feel it much more than others (who apparently, worship God less).

We often confine worship to Sunday morning. We even call it a "worship service." That's not an incorrect term, but then we end up saying odd things like, "Let's begin to worship." We're not worshiping, we're not worshiping, we're not worshiping ... wait for iiiiiiiiitttt ... NOW! Now, we've begun to worship! And then we'd better be "done worshiping" before the Baptists take all the good tables at the restaurants.

Those who don't particularly get into music have to then come up with apologetic excuses, like "I worship God in my own way." Because, you know, I can't seem to do it the right way.

The most common Greek word used in the New Testament that we translate "worship" means "to bow down, to prostrate oneself, to kiss the hand." There are two parts to this: the attitude (humble reverence toward someone) and action (bowing down). Nothing about music, a certain time of the week, or a certain building. Worship is the action of an attitude. Not necessarily a physical bowing down; rather, an attitude that's never just an attitude, but one that ends up in an action that expresses the attitude.

Singing is in fact one of those actions of worship - unless that singing has little to do with the attitude of bowing down to God. In fact, if "worship music" becomes about you having a particular feeling, it's not bowing down to God much at all. Rather, it's bowing down to a feeling. Having intense feelings while truly worshiping God through music is all well and good - I often feel that, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying that feeling. But when the feeling becomes the objective, we've switched what we're bowing down to.

The action of an attitude. Going to work and doing your job because you bow down to God and do your work because it advances His purposes in the world is a form of worship. Going to work to get a paycheck so you can buy things is not worship. Volunteering with Awana because people tell me you're good at it is not a form of worship, but serving in Awana, even enjoying it, because it's a way to bow down to God is. Trying to share something about Christ with your neighbor because of your awe for God is worship; sharing because you're supposed to is not very worshipful.

To say "I worship God" means that I live out an attitude of awe, reverence, respect, and honor. I do in order to demonstrate His great worth. I draw attention to His greatness with singing, learning, teaching, working, serving, helping, loving, and bearing witness. My actions reveal an attitude that God is awesome. "Worshipers of God" doesn't describe singers and it doesn't describe people with right doctrine. It describes people who live out awe.

I hope I will never begin to worship. I would like to think I've already started, and that I'll never stop. And I hope I'll continually get better at it.

I Don't Know How to Make a Disciple

We've talked a lot about "discipleship." So much so that some might be tired of the topic, or even just the word. One of the reasons we've talked so much about it is because of a conviction that we've talked too little about it for far too long. Perhaps we're overcorrecting a bit, but given that discipling others is the thing Jesus told us to be about, it would be disobedient for us to not keep this as our primary activity.

Despite all the talk about discipleship, we still have a nagging question, "But how do I do it?" Where's the step-by-step guide? What does it look like? I agree I should be about it, but I'm not sure what it is I should be about.

The definition of "discipleship" that I like the most is: moving from unbelief to belief in every area of life in light of the Gospel.(1) This definition allows for important ideas: that discipleship begins before someone is born from above, that everyone can be discipled, and that even after believing in Christ there are still areas of unbelief that need to move toward belief. This definition is an ongoing process, not something that we finish after a 12-week study.

Given this definition, it's easy to see why we haven't presented a "how to" manual. The possibilities are endless on how we can help one another move from unbelief to belief in an area of life. It can be a Bible study, it can be working side by side for some cause, it can be while grieving over the loss of a loved one. It can be formal or informal, planned or unplanned, face-to-face or side-by-side. How do we help one another identify our areas of unbelief, and then without judgment, encourage one another to move toward belief?

Therefore, "making disciples" (I prefer "discipling") is not like making widgets. There is a set way to make a widget, and once you've made a widget, it's done. It's a widget or it's not. When we look at making disciples this way, we naturally begin to reduce disciplemaking down to things like doctrine, spiritual disciplines, and behavior. Just get those three things down, and boom ... you're a widget. Agree to the right doctrinal statement, be able to check off your list daily that you read and prayed, and stop doing bad stuff. This is not a "disciple"!!!

The word disciple means student or apprentice. Those words aren't like widgets. They are postures. One is a student if she has the posture of learning. One is an apprentice if he has an ongoing learning-by-example relationship with a journeyman. A disciple is defined by an orientation toward Jesus, not an accumulation of knowledge and behaviors.

Therefore, making a disciple is not like producing a product. Rather, it is helping someone assume certain posture toward Christ. It's not about giving them all the information, but helping them orient toward the Teacher for all things. It's not about learning spiritual disciplines, but adopting habits that orient us toward the Teacher. It's not about better behavior, but living a life of learning how to live from the Teacher. How do you make a student? By helping them adopt the posture of a student, not by grading pop quizzes.

I recently asked some middle school kids if they were able to disciple one another. They all said no. Then I asked them if they could help one another move from unbelief to belief in some areas of life. They all said yes. They certainly can disciple one another! (Just don't call it that.)

Can we help one another maintain a student posture? Can we help one another develop an apprentice relationship with Jesus? Certainly. Just do that. You'll learn better and better ways as we all move forward in this journey together, but just do that. Just encourage one another to move from unbelief to belief in specific areas of our lives. That, of course, requires authentic relationships.

(1) Caesar Kalinowski

I've Often Not Been on Boats

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

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

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

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

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

Rosencrantz says,

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

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

Another Thought About Waiting

We recently concluded a short series on "Waiting on the Lord," which was personally challenging for me. Based on conversations I had with several of you, it was a timely topic for many of us. It is one of those topics that is hard to talk about, and even harder to practice. But there's one big point about waiting that I didn't even think of until ten minutes after the series was over, as I was speaking to one of you in the foyer.

I hate it when I do that! But it's an enormous point about waiting that is worth bringing up. I apologize for failing to include it in the series.

One of the big lessons Lynne and I have learned through experience about waiting on the Lord is that sometimes the Lord wants us to wait because He's waiting on us to be ready for His answer. We've seen this in our own lives more than a few times.

One of those instances was a hard period of waiting without knowing exactly what we were waiting for. I had just finished my degree at Talbot School of Theology and was serving part-time on staff at a church in La Mirada, CA. A part-time pastor's salary doesn't pay the rent in LA, so something had to change.

Three years prior, I had halted my career in software in order to go to seminary full-time. We downsized into a little apartment, I worked through all the coursework over those three years, I was serving at this church, and Lynne had been working to support us (but took the last year off in order to take classes, too). But now, with a shiny new diploma, I was ready for God to plant us right into our next assignment. I got my curriculum vitae all polished up, scoured the various sources looking for churches who needed someone a lot like me, and hit the electronic pavement in the hunt.

It was painfully unproductive. Hurdle 1 was finding a church that seemed like a good fit in theology and style. Of all the churches on the lists, about 1 in 20 fit this criteria. Hurdle 2 was finding such a church that would maybe be interested in someone with very little experience, which thinned the list even faster. Hurdle 3 was finding a way to make my paperwork make it as far as initial contact, which cut the remaining list about in half. Hurdle 4 was coming away from the phone interview excited about that fellowship, with a hope that they paid enough to live on. That happened with about one-third of the phone interviews.

Getting past Hurdle 4 was rare. This was not like job-shopping in software, which is what I was used to. It bruises the ego (at best) to know that 99 out of 100 churches don't like you as a pastor.

In the meantime, Lynne was struggling to get an interview, too. The market had dried up soon after she resigned.

After 9 months of this waiting, I decided to start looking again back in the software industry. I call this process "rubbing salt in the wound," because no one would touch someone who had been out of the business for almost four years. Pursuing both fronts, there was a whole lot of waiting and dead ends.

I had set aside a job, a career, and a steady paycheck. God was supposed to honor that, right? What was He waiting for? Because I was sick of waiting. Turns out, He was waiting for me to be ready for His answer.

His answer was a perfect description of what I said I didn't want - to be the solo pastor of a small church far from family in a small town, an hour from any echo of modern life, and two hours from the real deal. But one dead end after another slowly chipped away at the things I was unwilling to do. Every single candidating process that went anywhere served to open me up piece by piece for what God had in store. If God had revealed His answer as I stepped off the platform with my new degree in hand, I would not have been ready.

God waiting more than a year until I was ready for His answer. I waited on the Lord, quite fitfully, as He was at work in me to make me ready for His answer.

Sometimes we have to wait on the Lord because He's patiently waiting on us to be able to receive what He has to give us.

Learning to send or Being sent to learn?

Our typical pattern in churches for years has been:

1. Come together to learn about Jesus
2. Go into the field to share about Jesus with others

Gather, then scatter. Learn, then share. Repeat. 

The "go" could be around the world or across the street, into the inner city or at the kids' soccer game. That's what being "sent" means - learn then go. There's usually an iterative process here of learning and going, but the general flow puts the learning here and the going there (and, by the way, you'll do some learning there, too).

This is not a bad pattern at all - I'm not going to criticize it, and in fact it is very appropriate in many contexts. Jesus certainly employed this with His disciples.

But I was struck with a different model, recently. Instead of going into in order to share what I've learned about Jesus, what if I went into in order to learn as much about Jesus as I can in that place? For example, rather than going into my neighborhood to tell my neighbors all the cool stuff I've learned about Jesus, instead I go into my neighborhood with the intent of learning about Jesus while dwelling there among my neighbors.

The premise: Jesus is already at work in my neighborhood (or whichever place we want to talk about). He's already there, He already reigns over all things, and He's already involved in the lives of my neighbors, whether they acknowledge Him or not. Rather than the arrogance of already knowing that they need to know about Jesus and being so gracious as to let them know some of it, this is a posture of humility - I have much to learn about Jesus, and in particular, I have a lot to learn about Him from and through my neighbors. There are ways of knowing Jesus that I can only learn in my neighborhood. So, I can endeavor to learn about Jesus by doing life with my neighbors (or coworkers or fellow soccer parents), to get to know Jesus in far more intimate ways by trusting Him and expecting to discover Him in my neighborhood. Jesus is already there and there's much to learn about Him there. I just need to really be there in order to discover it. "Here I am - send me ... in order to find out even more about Jesus."

The theory: By doing the things we consider to be "missional" (building authentic, unconditional relationships, praying consistently for our neighbors, sharing meals with them, serving them, sharing with them), we are doing the very things that will end up revealing great things about Jesus. And not just to me ... to my neighbors, too. I can study in a classroom about trusting Jesus and learn a lot, or I can dare to trust Jesus in my neighborhood and really learn about trusting Him. I can study about prayer and then go practice it, or I can commit to practice it on behalf of my neighbors and then learn about it by how our relationships change and by how opportunities open up. I can read biographies about people who walked by faith and endeavor to emulate them, or I can walk by faith in my neighborhood and discover Jesus that way. I can get to know Jesus better by discovering how He's already at work in others.

There's a treasure of knowing Jesus in my neighborhood and in my workplace and in the stands at the soccer field! Am I willing to explore in order to find it?

Then I become far more eager to "do that missional stuff." If I try by my determination to be missional because I should, I won't last long. If I realize that living missionally is how I will most learn about Jesus, then I become eager to dwell in my neighborhood with my neighbors. I don't have to remind myself to pray for them - I become eager to pray for them because I'm going to learn about Jesus this way.

Learning-to-send is not a bad model, and we should continue to employ this idea. But I think we should do a whole lot more of the Being-sent-to-learn model. We are sent (John 20:21). We are told to "Go!" (Matt 28:19). If it is in being sent that I will learn most about Jesus, I'm eager to go.

Out of my depth

What fell?

When Adam and Eve, and thereby the entire human race, sinned against God and "fell," what exactly fell? How extensive is the Fall? In answering this question, I'm going to go a little out of my depth, but that never stopped me before.

We know that our volition fell. Our ability to choose fell. We are inescapably consigned to want sinful things, to choose sinful things, to never be pure in our motives and actions. This is what we typically blame in others (and sometimes ourselves). In our judgmental moods, we critique people for their choices. A homeless substance abuser asks for money, and we think, "If you hadn't made all those bad choices, you wouldn't be in this predicament. " What else could God hold people accountable for but their choices?

Our relationships also fell. Most obvious, our relationship with God fell - kicked out from His presence. It was severely damaged, but not irreparably destroyed. It is the most tragic loss - to be estranged from your Creator. Furthermore, our relationships with each other fell. When God told Adam and Eve what life was going to be like going forward, He described that tension and conflict would plague us.

We also fell spiritually - we became spiritually dead, needing to be reborn.

But I step out of my depth when I consider that we also fell developmentally. I haven't studied human development science, especially child development. Some of you have. What little I understand is that we go through developmental stages, and if a stage is not properly experienced, then there are predictable dysfunctions that are likely to occur later in life. These dysfunctions may involve little to no choice on the part of the person. We fell developmentally, too.

But here's the problem: we can't blame people for things they have no choice over, can we? More importantly, God can't blame a person for that, can He? Such a person doesn't need to be saved from things that aren't his fault, does he?

Part of our difficulty is equating the Fall with blameworthiness. We tend toward thinking salvation is only for the things we're directly at fault for. Our difficulty is that we think Jesus died only for our sinful choices.

We are fallen. Every part about us is fallen. So, every part about us needs to be saved - including the stuff we have little to no choice over. Grace is that extensive. Our need for Christ is bigger than just our bad choices. We are so fallen that just fixing our choices won't make us unfallen. We absolutely cannot save ourselves. The Cross of Christ is that complete. We are that dependent on a Savior, because we even need saving from things we can't control. We are all out of our depth.

I don't need to fixate on someone else's bad choices. He or she is fallen in every way and needs salvation in every way. The last thing people need is for me to give them the false idea that all they need to do is make better choices.

Step this way to see what life was like in 2015...

In AD 79 in Italy, Mt. Vesuvius erupted. Ash and burning rock rained down on Pompeii, creating a popular modern tourist destination, putting daily life as it was nearly 2000 years ago on display for gawkers to see just before heading to the gift shop to buy a souvenir.

Further west was another town at the foot of Vesuvius, the coastal town of Ercolano ("Herculaneum" in English), also destroyed when Vesuvius blew her top. As excavators were uncovering Ercolano, they discovered that although Ercolano is a much smaller find than Pompeii, it is far superior in its preservation, capturing even more clues of daily life than Pompeii. Pompeii was pummeled with fiery ordnance, burning much of the city as it was buried. On the other hand, Ercolano was spared the brimstone, but was blanketed with a think layer of volcanic mud, burying the city by several stories. Less than half of the original city has been excavated, because modern apartments and shops rest atop the covering, high above the original city.

During excavation, there was something missing. Details of daily life had been instantly preserved for the centuries, except for one thing ... people. The excavators kept digging and uncovering and collecting great artifacts, but no people. Until they got to the ancient coastline (the modern coastline is much further out). There, they found most of the town's citizens. It appears that they saw the danger racing down the volcano toward them, so they fled to their fishing boats to row out to safety. However, the tide was at that moment flowing in, trapping the panicked crowds, only to preserve them in an eerie snapshot of disaster.

The mud covering kept most of the town sealed through the ages only to be revealed in near pristine condition, including these three dimensional ghosts. One family was captured in what appears to be an unwary, casual afternoon at home.

Vesuvius last erupted in 1944, and today you can drive up most of the way, walk the rest, and peer down in. It smells of sulfur and is still venting smoke.

The artifacts are fascinating, and to me, especially the every day items. But all of them together reveal what was important to the citizens of Ercolano, and in many cases, the social status of those who owned those items. The town obviously prioritized fishing, but also recreation - Ercolano drew a lot of out-of-towners. Jewelry survived well, and was quite popular. But Ercolano was also a naughty town - scads of evidence of prostitution, both straight and gay. Softcore porn was publicly displayed. There was lots of sex and alcohol, like a year-round Spring Break at Corpus Christi.

But also there were families and workers and productive life. Those were also important to some.

In other words, not much has changed.

Of course, we have to assume a lot - we can only see what survived, and some things did burn or deteriorate. We can merely wonder what average things went on during an average day of people unaware that they would instantly become museum pieces one day.

Freeze your home in time at a random moment. Imagine it suddenly covered with stories of mud to be uncovered in the year 4000, granting throngs of visiting gawkers a picture of normal life in 2015. What would your "artifacts" tell them about your priorities, values, and habits?

Everything I own is a future artifact, potentially. What I own doesn't really capture my personality, it doesn't define my status, and it doesn't give my life meaning. Out of context, it may even give the wrong impression of who I am. So, what if I treated my possessions for what they really are - artifacts? Mere curiosities that future generations of passing tourists look at and wonder, just before they go to the gift shop to get a soda and a souvenir.